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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692083">Someday, the boys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue'>InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ASTRO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cameos, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Stealth Crossover, Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:34:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bin isn't allowed to want or dream, but he wants Minhyuk and dreams of a future with him. Minhyuk wants Bin and has big dreams for his future. </p><p>The universe strikes a balance for the two of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Moon Bin/Park Minhyuk | Rocky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Astro FicFest 2020, K-pop and K-drama AUs</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Astro Fic Fest 2020, Prompt #130: "Moonbin was a punk, Minhyuk did ballet, what more is there to say? Go crazy, I just want some stereotypical bad boy bin and dancer minhyuk."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bin leaned back against his bike, watching the dance students as they lingered outside the doors of their hagwon, laughing and chatting. Some wore tights and leggings and their hair up in neat buns, jackets and leg warmers on to protect them on the journey home. Others - including all the boys - wore sneakers and ripped jeans, snapbacks and tank tops. </p><p>Bin found Sua easily among the crowd. Some nights she dressed as a ballerina, other nights as a hip-hop dancer. Hip-hop was her passion, but their mother had insisted she have a foundation in ballet, as it would make her a more versatile dancer and give her more career opportunities later in life.</p><p>All Bin knew was that dance lessons at this hagwon, run by some of the industry’s top K-pop choreographers as well as a woman who’d been the prima ballerina of the National Ballet, were hella expensive. Mom and Dad had split when Bin and Sua were still in elementary school, and ten years later they still screamed at each other over money. Lessons for Sua were expensive, but Sua was going somewhere.</p><p>Bin was just going to get into another fight.</p><p>Bin was still in school, at least.</p><p>He remained in the shadows of the awning of the little cafe across the street from the hagwon, the visor on his helmet tipped down, and waited for the crowd of dancers to thin out. Sua headed to the bus stop with two of her friends, and finally all who was left was a boy. He wore ordinary skinny jeans and a t-shirt, and his hair was damp, freshly-washed, like he’d showered after practice. Judging by his sneakers, he was a hip-hop student. He probably worked at the hagwon for a reduction in tuition, because he was always the last one there, and he was always the one who locked the doors.</p><p>Bin checked both ways, crossed the street.</p><p>He planted himself in front of the boy, who had high cheekbones and dark, dark eyes and a serious mouth but a cute little nose.</p><p>The boy looked up at Bin, unimpressed and unintimidated. He’d never seen Bin in a street fight. Bin’s knuckles were still bruised and bleeding inside his leather riding gloves, but no matter. He’d made it here, and he had all the money. Bin unzipped his jacket, fished out the envelope full of cash, held it out.</p><p>The boy tilted his head, staring at Bin. “Who are you and why should I take this?”</p><p>Bin was taken aback. In the six months Bin had been helping pay for Sua’s dance lessons, the boy had never spoken to him, just taken the money and delivered it to the admin office.</p><p>“For all I know, you’re some creepy gangster who’s paying for Moon Sua-ssi’s dance lessons so you can entrap her in some sleazy scheme once she’s done with training.” </p><p>Bin had no gang, but the boys who knew him at his school and in his neighborhood would never speak to him like this. At least the boy hadn’t dared to speak informally to him.</p><p>Bin flipped up the visor of his helmet. “Who do you think you are, to speak on Sua-ya’s behalf?”</p><p>The boy studied him intently. “Ah. You’re Sua’s Bin-oppa.”</p><p>Bin rocked back on his heels. “How can you make such an assumption?”</p><p>“You look like her,” the boy said. The corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly, but it made his entire face light up with amusement. He tugged the envelope out of Bin’s limp grasp. “I’ll make sure this is delivered safely.” He inclined his head politely, spun on his heel, and headed into the building.</p><p>Bin gaped after him.</p><p>The boy locked the door behind him, and the sound of the deadbolt sliding into place jolted Bin back into action. He flipped his helmet visor down and headed back to his bike. He had to get home and get dinner started before Dad got back. Every day was long for them. A nice meal at the end of it would be some small comfort before they curled up on the floor side by side and tossed and turned through another night.</p><hr/><p>One month later, Bin stood opposite the dance hagwon, money in hand. He wished dancers weren’t such a chatty, gossipy bunch. Couldn’t they just text like normal people? He needed to make one more delivery before he headed home.</p><p>Finally, all the dancers cleared away.</p><p>All of them. The boy wasn’t there, the one who delivered the money for Bin. For the past four weeks, Bin had thought of the encounter with the boy over and over again, how he hadn’t been at all intimidated by Bin even though he’d casually suggested Bin might be a gangster. The boy wasn’t close with Sua, called her Moon Sua-ssi, but he must have been close enough to her to have heard her talk about Bin.</p><p>What did she possibly have to talk about? They only saw each other a few times a year - Mother’s day, Father’s day, each other’s birthdays, the memorial days for their grandparents.</p><p>Bin shifted his weight from foot to foot. Would the boy be coming out any time soon? He was always at the dance hagwon, practically lived there. Was he out sick? Everyone got sick once in a while.</p><p>How would Bin get the money delivered? </p><p>He waited for five more minutes, but the boy showed no sign of appearing. Who would lock the school up? </p><p>Bin took a deep breath, checked both ways, darted across the street. He tugged off his helmet and tucked it under his arm, then paused at the door. After another deep breath, he pulled it open and stepped inside. The hallway was narrow, warmly-lit, with frosted glass walls and doors on either side leading to what must have been dance practice rooms. With glass walls, weren’t they all bothered by each other’s music? Bin headed further down the hallway, craning his neck and searching for signs or something.</p><p>He passed water fountains, bathrooms, locker rooms, and - finally. The administration office. The door was open, but Bin knocked and called out politely.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>There was no response.</p><p>Bin poked his head into the office, and it was empty, though the desk was overflowing with papers. If he put the envelope on top of everything - it had Sua’s name written on it - it wouldn’t get lost, right? He was about to step into the office when he heard classical music spill into the hallway.</p><p>Bin backpedaled sharply and spun, searching for the source of the sound.</p><p>There. One of the dance practice room doors was open. Someone was still here. They would probably know where the hagwon staff were, right? Bin headed back down the hallway to the open door. Chances were only an instructor would still be dancing this late, so as long as Bin was polite and respectful, he’d get the help he needed.</p><p>For the first time in a long time, he regretted his leather-heavy get-up and his all-black, generally angry fashion sense.</p><p>And then he stared at the person in the dance studio. </p><p>It was the boy.</p><p>The one who always accepted the money from Bin.</p><p>He was shirtless and wearing black skinny jeans but also black ballet shoes, and he was soaring through the air. Every inch of him was sleek muscle, and his hair and skin were damp and shining with sweat, and how was it possible to jump that high without a running start?</p><p>Bin’s pulse roared in his ears.</p><p>The boy was beautiful.</p><p>He landed and immediately went into a series of turns that made Bin dizzy just to watch.</p><p>Bin had always thought that boy ballet dancers just sort of did what the girls did, and held them and lifted them up sometimes, but the boy’s every move was powerful and astonishingly masculine.</p><p>And incredibly sexy.</p><p>The boy ended with a sweeping extension, which he held till the music faded, and then he straightened up, rolled his shoulders.</p><p>When he spotted Bin gaping in the doorway, he arched an eyebrow and said, deliberately, “Bin-oppa.”</p><p>Bin started. “W-what?” He’d forgotten how deep the other boy’s voice was, compared to Bin’s. People always expected Bin to have a deep voice because he was tall, but all growing up he’d sounded exactly the same as Sua.</p><p>“You’re Moon Sua-ssi’s Bin-oppa. Can I do something for you?” The boy was breathing a little hard, and he reached out, snagged a towel off the floor and wiped himself off.</p><p>Bin couldn’t help but stare at the boy’s gleaming golden skin. “You - you’re a ballet dancer.”</p><p>“I do ballet, yes.” The boy tilted his head. “You sound surprised. This is a combined dance hagwon.”</p><p>“But - after classes. There are never any boys dressed like ballet dancers,” Bin stammered out.</p><p>The boy slung the towel around his neck and picked up a water bottle, took a long pull. “Any male ballet dancer knows better than to set foot outside of the building still in ballet gear. Even though we don’t deserve to be ruthlessly bullied by other boys and even some girls, we’re not going to invite it unnecessarily either.”</p><p>It was Bin’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You don’t seem like the type of person who’s afraid of bullies. You weren’t afraid of me?”</p><p>“Why should I be afraid of you?”</p><p>Bin drew himself up taller. “Because -”</p><p>“Because you used to eat crayons when you were a toddler?” The boy looked amused, the curve of his lips subtle but his eyes bright, just like last time, and Bin couldn’t stop staring at his mouth.</p><p>Then he spluttered. “I can’t believe Sua told you that!”</p><p>The boy shrugged. “I listen.” He toweled off his hair, which made it look fluffy and wild and also very soft. </p><p>Bin wanted to touch it. He swallowed hard. “So - are you the only boy ballet dancer at this school?”</p><p>“Hardly. At this level, male ballet dancers are the minority, but once we reach more advanced levels, ballet dancers are about half and half, male and female. There are two boys’ classes at this school. Plenty of the boys, like your sister, also study other styles.” The boy pulled on a tank top.</p><p>Bin was no slouch physically, but the sheer muscle on the other boy was unexpected and impressive. He must have been solid as a rock, despite how slender he looked.</p><p>“You never answered my question, by the way.” The boy exchanged the black ballet slippers for a familiar pair of sneakers. After he shrugged on a sports jacket, he could have been a hip-hop dancer.</p><p>“What was the question?” Bin licked his lips.</p><p>“Can I do something for you?”</p><p>“Oh. Just - this.” Bin held up the envelope full of money. “I wasn’t sure if I should leave it on the desk in the office or -”</p><p>The boy shouldered his gym bag, crossed the room, switched off the light, and in the half-shadows his dark eyes were even darker, deeper.</p><p>Bin looked down at him and felt like he was drowning.</p><p>“I can take that to the office for you,” the boy said.</p><p>Bin surrendered it quickly. “Thank you. I didn’t see you outside, so -”</p><p>“I have an important audition coming up, so I’m practising extra,” the boy said. “Have been for a while, but you only come once a month.”</p><p>Something fluttered in Bin’s stomach. The boy remembered him. Granted, Bin was probably the only weirdo who showed up in a motorcycle helmet and handed over a massive envelope of cash every month, but knowing that the boy remembered him made him feel stupidly warm inside.</p><p>“Well - good luck,” Bin said.</p><p>“Thanks,” the boy said, sliding past Bin, not quite touching but close enough that Bin could feel his heat and smell his skin, “Bin-oppa.”</p><p>Bin jackrabbited back a step. “What - why do you call me that?”</p><p>The boy lifted one shoulder. “Sorry. It’s what Sua-ssi always calls you. It had never occurred to me that I’d meet you in real life one day, so in my head, you’re Bin-oppa. What would you like me to call you?”</p><p>“I’m - how old are you?”</p><p>“Sua-ssi and I are the same age, but I’m her sunbae here at the hagwon,” the boy said.</p><p>“Then - then you should call me Moon Bin-ssi.”</p><p>The boy looked amused all over again. “I’ll do my best to remember that, Moon Bin-ssi.” With that, he turned and headed down the hallway to the admin office.</p><p>Bin watched him go. Then he realized something. “What should I call you?”</p><p>The boy glanced over his shoulder. “My name is Park Minhyuk, but my friends call me Rocky.”</p><p>Before Bin could ask whether they were friends, Minhyuk vanished into the admin office, and Bin’s phone buzzed. </p><p>He checked the text message, swore. He was late on that delivery. Bin turned and headed for the door, but not without looking back one last time and hoping to see Minhyuk. </p><p>He was disappointed. </p><p>But there was always next month. </p><hr/><p>Bin wasn’t a gangster, and he refused to become one, because gangsters had nearly killed his father and had almost ruined their lives over and over again. Sua and Mom would never know how hard Bin and Dad had fought to keep everyone and everything afloat. But Bin and Dad had both worked like dogs, and now they were free and clear of the gangs. And Bin was going to keep it that way.</p><p>That didn’t mean the gangs weren’t still circling around them, waiting for a weak moment, a chance to strike. Bin went out into the world with his head up. Once school was over for the day, he was finished being a student. He was a man providing for his family. Bin changed out of his uniform, hopped on his bike, checked his phone for the first job of the day, and off he went.</p><p>He didn’t need the newest, fanciest smartphone or laptop, fancy clothes or to spend hours at a PC bang. His older-model phone worked well enough to keep him in contact with Dad and let him read webtoons for free - he read dozens at once, to keep him going between updates of his favorites. He’d bought his bike used and spent many late nights and long hours fixing it up and tuning it up. He had good leathers so he could ride safely. And now he was one of the best motorbike couriers in the city. </p><p>One wrong move, one wrong turn, one corner taken too fast, and he and his Dad were back in the hole. So Bin wasn’t surprised when younger members of the gang he and Dad once owed money to followed him around, looking to rough him up, put him out of commission so he and Dad would have to come crawling back for help. Since he was an independent contractor for multiple courier agencies in the city, it was hard for them to track him and follow him, and he liked it that way. He also knew it was only a matter of time before they got brave - and stupid.</p><p>Like waiting for him just outside the school gates, where he parked his bike. All the kids at school and in the neighborhood knew to keep their hands off of Bin’s bike.</p><p>The three boys were crowded around Bin’s bike where it was parked in the school bicycle shed, a shark among guppies. One boy was pretending to ride it, the others cheering him on. Other students who were collecting their own bicycles cast the boys wide-eyed looks. Beneath their bleached and dyed and greased-back hair, their cheap tattoos and cheaper jewelry, they were barely older than Bin and his classmates. Dropouts, all three of them.</p><p>“Get away from my bike,” Bin said.</p><p>The three of them turned.</p><p>“Oh, is this your bike?” one of them asked. The other two snickered and smirked.</p><p>“You know the rules,” Bin said. “You can’t touch me. I don’t owe you people anything.”</p><p>“Yeah, but we can touch your bike,” the second one said.</p><p>Bin reached into his jacket pocket for the key to the bike and found the extra fob. “Are you sure you want to do that?”</p><p>As expected, other two reached out and put their hands on the body of the bike. Bin pressed the button on the fob. </p><p>All three boys yelped and recoiled sharply. </p><p>“What the hell was that?” the first one demanded, whirling to face Bin. </p><p>“You touched my bike,” Bin said. “No one touches it but me.” Especially not after he’d installed that little shock system. </p><p>The three boys suddenly looked much younger, like kittens who’d been splashed with cold water. They cast each other nervous looks, then backed away from Bin.</p><p>“You’ll regret this!” one of them shouted, and they all turned tail and ran.</p><p>Bin waited till they were well out of sight before he checked his phone for messages about incoming jobs. Once he confirmed he had no immediate orders, he pulled on his helmet, hopped on his bike, and set off for one of the central courier hubs. It was only a matter of time before someone in the gang braved up or wised up and came at him. Until then, he had work to do.</p><hr/><p>During lulls, when Bin had a chance to catch his breath between deliveries, or when he was cruising along a fairly deserted road and enjoying the sound of the wind rushing past him, he wondered what it was like to be Park Minhyuk, to be able to leap so high he could practically fly, to dedicate all his time and energy to something he loved. Minhyuk had to love what he did, to be that good at it. </p><p>Sometimes, late at night, Bin would close his eyes and picture Minhyuk soaring through the air, his powerful jumps and his dizzying spins, the gleam of his skin and the shift of his muscles and -</p><p>Bin wanted to hate him. He knew how expensive dance lessons were. For Minhyuk to be that good a dancer, he probably never did anything else, besides school. Meanwhile Bin was working, worked so hard he never had a chance to dream. For Bin, dreams were not an option. He had simple goals: get out of debt; pay for Sua’s dance lessons; help his father. Dreams were for other people, like Park Minhyuk.</p><p>By the end of the day, Bin didn’t even wish he could dream. He was too tired to dream. He wanted to sleep - deep, dreamless sleep, so he’d actually feel like he was well-rested in the morning. </p><p>A message for an emergency delivery dashed his faint hopes for a good night’s rest. The price on the job was too high to refuse, but not so high that he ought to be suspicious. He had to pick up a crate of mussels from a fish market and deliver them to a fancy neighborhood as soon as possible. Some rich person was having a dinner party and had underestimated the number of attendees, so the caterer was in need of additional supplies.</p><p>Bin’s cargo was precious, so he made sure it was strapped securely to his bike before he sped away from the market. Most kids had fancy GPS on their phones, but Bin was a genius at reading maps and directions, and he found the house just fine. It was indeed in a fancy neighborhood, one that was on the outskirts of the city, up a hill, on a quiet street. Trees and wrought-iron street lamps lined the street. Bin pulled up at a tall wrought-iron gate that matched the ironwork on the street lamps. He checked the house number on the gate, but the house was set too far beyond the gate, on the other side of a vast lawn, for him to be able to read the name on the house. Judging by the number of sleek, expensive cars parked near the house, Bin was at the right place. </p><p>He fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text message to the courier dispatcher. A moment later,  he received a reply. Someone would be out to receive the delivery soon.</p><p>Bin unstrapped the crate from the back of his bike and waited till he saw a figure in a white chef uniform, minus the cap, come skipping down the stone steps with surprising agility.</p><p>“Delivery,” Bin said, peeking through the bars in the gate.</p><p>“Good evening,” Park Minhyuk said at the same time, and they stared at each other.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“You can’t just say something like that and then - then -”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“And then what? Keep on eating?”</i></p><p>  <i>“Well - yeah.”</i></p><p>  <i>“What do you expect me to do, kiss you? This isn’t a drama.” </i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the soft glow of the street light, Minhyuk’s cheekbones looked even sharper, his features almost severe, but his eyes looked like they were glittering with starlight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You - you’re a caterer?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk unlatched the gate and stepped onto the sidewalk, accepted the crate from Bin with surprising ease. “Dance lessons don’t pay for themselves. As you seem to well know.” He looked Bin up and down. “Thank you for the speedy delivery. I won’t keep you from the rest of your work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, this is my last delivery of the night,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, then, safe journey home,” Minhyuk said. “Have a good night, Bin-oppa.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I mean, Moon Bin-ssi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin should have been mad at the way Minhyuk was talking to him. He wasn’t being informal, but Bin couldn’t just let that </span>
  <em>
    <span>oppa</span>
  </em>
  <span> stand, so he fired off the sauciest response he could make on the spot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. Rocky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Minhyuk pause and look back at Bin again. He said, “Have you had dinner yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Bin admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on. I’ll get you some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t the food for the party?” Bin asked, but he followed Minhyuk through the gate and up the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but anything not pretty enough for the rich people is all ours.” Minhyuk moved swiftly through the shadows in the garden, around the side of the house to the kitchen door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin remained outside, though he was curious and peered in when Minhyuk opened the door and stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, here’s the mussels.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A harried-looking woman in a chef uniform, cap and all, took the crate from Minhyuk with surprising strength and shouted to someone else, and more people in white uniform jackets swarmed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve got it from here, Minhyukie,” his mother said. “Have some food and get off your feet. You can’t wear yourself out before your audition.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “Thank you. I’ll get some food and get out of your way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He darted into the kitchen, and Bin stepped back, out of sight of the open door. A few moments later, Minhyuk reappeared with a couple of plates, both piled high with meat and rice and kimchi and dumplings and more. Bin’s mouth watered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way. We can sit on the back patio. No one will notice us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin followed Minhyuk deeper into the shadows in the garden. He spared a thought for his bike still parked on the sidewalk, but in a neighborhood like this, it would likely be left alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patio was low and wide, a tiled affair. Minhyuk sat on the edge of the tiled floor instead of on the heavy wicker furniture, so Bin sat beside him, boots whispering in the grass. Minhyuk handed him a plate, a pair of chopsticks, a spoon, and a bottle of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you carry all that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t just help with the cooking - I also wait tables,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin glanced at him. “I thought you were just a dancer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was born to dance,” Minhyuk said. “But I can’t be just a dancer, not yet. But that’s neither here nor there. Eat well.” He dug into his food with gusto.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin understood why, because it was delicious. He cleared his throat. “I thought you had to watch what you eat. As a dancer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a growing boy,” Minhyuk said. “And I burn a lot of calories, between school and training and work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin considered. “You’re probably really strong, right? From lifting all those girls. Could you lift me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you knew how to be lifted, probably,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin frowned at him. “Don’t you just...lift me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head. “A lift is much more technical than that. You have to have the core strength to hold the right pose and balance your weight properly on me so I can carry you. You have to pose with me, not fight me. And you have to not panic or squirm if I have to put my hands in an otherwise awkward place to hold you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your hands?” Bin echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if you’ve ever looked closely at some ballet holds, but you have to put your hands on someone else’s butt or between their legs.” Minhyuk sounded amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Bin turned to him sharply. “Have you - have you ever lifted my sister?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, without looking at Bin, “I am the strongest of the male dancers at the school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger flashed through Bin. “Yah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Relax,” Minhyuk said. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about your sister’s virtue when the only Moon sibling I’ve ever flirted with is you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin faltered. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged one shoulder and kept on eating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin fumbled his chopsticks. “You can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>say</span>
  </em>
  <span> something like that and then - then -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then what? Keep on eating?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well - yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you expect me to do, kiss you? This isn’t a drama.” Minhyuk unscrewed the cap on his water bottle and drained half of it in one go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days Bin’s life felt like a drama - or a lousy webtoon, because those dragged on far longer than dramas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you flirting with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re hot, and you didn’t try to punch me for flirting with you. Those are pretty important.” Minhyuk continued eating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was still hungry, but his throat was tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even if you hadn’t realized I was flirting with you - and obviously you didn’t - now that you know you’ve still been decent - so. I figure you’re a good person, even if you never talk to me again.” Minhyuk cleaned off his plate and set it aside, then tipped his head back to peer at the sky through the branches of the massive frangipani tree that shaded the patio.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him, at the line of his throat and his cheekbones where they glowed in the combined illumination of the moonlight and street lights, at the curve of his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin never let himself dream, never let himself want, but in this moment, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached out, put a hand on Minhyuk’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I?” Bin asked. He wasn’t sure if he was asking permission or asking himself if he was brave enough to do this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was brief, Minhyuk’s lips warm and soft against his. Bin pulled back slightly to catch his breath. His heart beat wildly in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all right?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kissed him again, harder, pressing their mouths together. He reached out and grasped onto the first thing he found - Minhyuk’s shoulder beneath the heavy fabric of his uniform jacket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk fisted a hand in Bin’s leather jacket and dragged him closer, and the next thing Bin knew he was pressed up against one of the pillars and Minhyuk was straddling his thighs, clutching his shoulders and licking his way into Bin’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heat flashed deliciously under Bin’s skin, and he grabbed Minhyuk’s hips, held on tight, and let Minhyuk kiss him deeper. Minhyuk’s hands slid up the sides of Bin’s neck, his touch feather-light and making Bin’s skin even hotter. Minhyuk buried his hands in Bin’s hair and panted against Bin’s mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This never happened in dramas. Bin didn’t know what to do next. He wanted to pull Minhyuk closer, feel Minhyuk’s weight and heat. He wanted to push Minhyuk away so he could catch his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone shouted from the kitchens. “Minhyuk-ah! We need you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pulled back and swore. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded, breathless. “Yeah. I probably should go, too. Should get, uh, home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. I’ll see you again, Bin-oppa.” Minhyuk darted in for another swift kiss, and then he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wolfed down the rest of his food and saw himself out the gate, stumbling and dazed. What had just happened?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow he made it back to the rundown rooftop apartment he and Dad grudgingly called home, and he fixed a meal for Dad before he showered up and crawled into bed. His heart was still pounding. He could still feel the ghost of Minhyuk’s kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin fell asleep, and he dreamed, and in his dream, he wanted, and he got what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t only go to the dance hagwon once a month. He stopped by randomly in the weeks between payments just to keep an eye on Sua. Bin and Dad had never talked about Mom or Sua in the presence of any of the gangsters, who were under the impression that Dad had made some poor business decisions and had bank loans to pay off. But Bin didn’t trust the gangsters not to get nosy or try to be creative. If they threatened Sua and Mom, Bin wasn’t sure what he’d have to do to protect them. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out how far he’d be willing to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Bin ended up in the shadows across the street from the hagwon, watching some ballet girls have a mini dance-off with some hip-hop girls in the street, Sua acting as referee, he told himself he was just checking on her. He certainly wasn’t scanning the faces of the boys in the crowd, wondering which ones were ballet dancers. He definitely wasn’t looking for Minhyuk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he saw the moment when Minhyuk poked his head out of the door, spoke loudly, said something that made the other students nod and bid him farewell and drift away from the door. Minhyuk watched them go, then straightened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And looked right at Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he vanished into the building, letting the door drift closed behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t lock it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t help himself. He abandoned his bike and followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally caught up to Minhyuk, Minhyuk was sitting on the floor of one of the practice rooms, door open, soft, slow music playing while he did a series of impressive cool-down stretches. Of course he was crazy flexible - all ballet dancers had to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hesitated on the threshold of the practice room. Minhyuk’s black slippers looked paper-thin, delicate, even if they weren’t made of the pink satin all of Sua’s ballet shoes had been made of. Bin’s heavy leather boots probably weren’t welcome on the special wood floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did your audition go?” Bin asked finally, when it was apparent that Minhyuk wasn’t going to speak first. “Or has it not happened yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed hard. Minhyuk’s tights left almost nothing to the imagination. He could see every shift of Minhyuk’s thigh muscles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It happened,” Minhyuk said. “I won’t hear the results for several weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens, if you - win? Succeed? I don’t really know how ballet works,” Bin admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unsurprising, since you never come to Sua’s recitals or performances,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Mom had always been firm about it: Sua didn’t need her father and brother distracting her from her dance focus; she could get injured if she wasn’t focused. Bin wasn’t about to tell Minhyuk that. Sua might have told Minhyuk about Bin eating crayons when he was a baby (it wasn’t like Sua hadn’t done it too, because she’d done everything her brother did), but she wouldn’t have told him about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that? I come and check on Sua all the time here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t have been surprised that I do ballet if you’d been to one of the hagwon recitals.” Minhyuk arched an eyebrow at him, amused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin conceded the point, chagrined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “If I pass the audition, I’ll be moving to America to attend ballet school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s mind spun. “Is - are there no ballet schools in Korea?” Would Sua be moving far away? Bin hadn’t seen her perform in years. Was she a very good dancer? Would she be able to get into a foreign school?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are excellent ballet schools in Korea,” Minhyuk said. “But one of the best schools for male dancers, the kind of dancer I want to be, is in America.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of dancer do you want to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A fierce technician. A good jumper. Solid at turns. I don’t have the build to be a long Balanchine boy, so something a bit more aggressive is my style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s mind was racing, but he forced himself to focus. “I didn’t realize there were different types of ballet dancers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk cocked his head. “Of course. There are different types of artists and singers, athletes and musicians. Why not dancers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But isn’t the whole point of ballet to be all the same?” Bin asked. “I really know nothing about ballet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged. “You’re not alone. It’s not particularly popular among most people our age. Yes, in the beginning technique is quite uniform, and some of that is for beauty, but technique, first and foremost, is to prevent injury. If you don’t have good foundational technique, you could injure yourself during an advanced technique. Walk before you run.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He swallowed hard. “Ah - what about my sister? Will she go to a ballet school overseas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think she wants to, plus she’d have an easier time finding work as a hip-hop or street dancer around here,” Minhyuk said. “Even if she doesn’t become an idol, she could become a company backup dancer or dance instructor. She could even teach here, when she gets older.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The panic that had started to rise in Bin’s chest settled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk rose up from the floor, a single, fluid movement, like a flower unfurling beneath the sun, and Bin remembered, with startling clarity: he and Minhyuk had kissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk padded across the floor to his gym bag, fished out a towel and water bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. He was wearing a tank top today, one with the hagwon’s name and logo on it, but Bin could still see his arm muscles, glimpses of his chest muscles as he moved. He probably didn’t have an ounce of fat on him, every inch of him built to dance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin cleared his throat. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk met his gaze, raised his eyebrows, and took a deep pull from his water bottle. “Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...do you ever dance barefoot? I bet it looks really pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk flashed him that subtly amused look. “You really don’t know anything about ballet. We all have hideously ugly feet. The girls have it worse, breaking toenails when they dance </span>
  <em>
    <span>en pointe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But ugly feet are the price we pay for looking good in our shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do your feet hurt? After dancing for hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually made Minhyuk laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? What’s so funny?” Bin protested, a little insulted but also caught off guard by how bright and sweet Minhyuk looked when he laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have no idea how much our feet hurt. Yes, technique protects us from the worst of it, but - have you seen how high I jump? Even if I land perfectly, after doing it a thousand times my feet definitely hurt.” Minhyuk shook his head, still chuckling to himself, and finished his bottle of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw you, the other night, practicing for your audition. You can jump really high,” Bin said. “Basketball players would probably kill to jump that high. Can you dunk a basket?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t play basketball,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever?” Bin wasn’t particularly good at it, but he joined in sometimes at school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I avoid anything that isn’t related to what I train in so I don’t get injured and miss training.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow. That’s - are most dancers like that?” Bin knew Sua did fun things with friends, like ride bicycles in the park.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but most dancers aren’t me,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin huffed. “You’re modest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m mostly friendless and isolated among my peers because I do nothing but study, train, and work,” Minhyuk said. “But I’m good at what I do. I make sure the sacrifice is worth it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua-ya told you I used to eat crayons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I listen when she talks,” Minhyuk said, with a shrug. “But I wouldn’t call myself her friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wondered what Sua thought about him, that she talked to a mere acquaintance about her childhood memories of him. Did she hate him? Then Bin looked at Minhyuk and thought of how Minhyuk casually described himself as </span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly friendless</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Bin hadn’t felt sorry for him, just thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me too.</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were alike in strange ways. Maybe Sua saw it too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Bin didn’t want to think of her right now. She wasn’t why he’d come here tonight. He could admit that to himself now. He knew why he’d come. Could he admit it aloud to Minhyuk?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “You kissed me.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Most of what I know about male ballet dancers I learned from Tristan Simpson's YouTube channel, or from looking up ballet schools for boys on Google.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Bin sank against the doorframe, feeling a little overwhelmed. He looked down at himself, all in riding leathers, helmet still in hand. Next to pretty, slender Minhyuk, he looked like a thug.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bin’s statement seemed to hang in the air for far too long. Dammit. He’d screwed up and said the wrong thing and -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged. “So? You kissed me first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But - won’t that ruin your dream of becoming a professional ballet dancer?” Once again Bin was startled by Minhyuk’s nonchalance about this entire situation, but it was better than him freaking out, so Bin would do his best to roll with the punches. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one is surprised when a male ballet dancer is gay. When he’s straight, well, no one believes it. Honestly, more male ballet dancers are straight than you’d think. Probably half of us?” Minhyuk toweled himself off slowly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin had never said the word aloud before. Gay. Was he gay? He thought girls were pretty sometimes, but -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he’d never wanted to do with a girl what he wanted to do with Minhyuk. He wasn’t entirely sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted to do with Minhyuk, since that was definitely something teachers hadn’t covered in health or science class. He wouldn’t mind kissing Minhyuk again, for starters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Should he just ask Minhyuk if he wanted to kiss again? He’d asked last time, and Minhyuk had kissed him. It was that simple, wasn’t it? Only it didn’t feel so simple this time, because they weren’t in the shadows of a stranger’s garden; they were standing in the dance studio where anyone could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin said, “How come you’re always the last one here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I clean the dance studios before I go,” Minhyuk said, “and they reduce my tuition a bit. Plus it gives me time to practice alone, if I want. Why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here? It’s not time to pay your sister’s tuition.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin almost said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Because I </span>
  </em>
  <span>want</span>
  <em>
    <span> you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Instead he said, “You should dance for me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk raised his eyebrows. “Why, you think ballet is sexy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Usually I think it’s boring, but when it’s you...you don’t think it’s sexy?” Bin blinked, surprised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk looked dubious. “No, it’s not sexy. It just - it </span>
  <em>
    <span>is. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What’s even sexy about it - the tights? Tights are just so you can see us move. It’s not like we’re pretending to be naked. And not everyone always dances in tights.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it’s not sexy, why do you do it?” Bin asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The same reason other boys play video games or basketball or soccer. It’s a challenge. It’s demanding. And I want to win. If I can jump higher and turn better than the other boys, if my lines are longer and cleaner, I’ve won. And also - also moving makes sense.” Minhyuk closed his eyes and swayed briefly to the soft cool-down music, and Bin was momentarily entranced by the lines of his body, how smooth and graceful the motion was. Then Minhyuk opened his eyes and looked right at Bin. “You know how that is, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin did. It was why he sped on his bike, why he was quick to get into a fight. Because he had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get away from everything that went on in his head. In another world, would he have also been a dancer, or an athlete, or a martial artist, moving with focus and purpose beyond survival and the primal thrill of violence?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hip-hop,” Minhyuk said. “Now, that’s sexy. But then it’s supposed to be. Not that ballet can’t be sexy, but - hip-hop. That’s where the sexy’s at. If you trained up, you’d probably be a good hip-hop dancer. You’ve got nice long limbs, strong hands.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the way Minhyuk swept his gaze over Bin was piercing and unsettling instead of flattering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin said, “So will you dance for me or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you even like ballet?” Minhyuk asked. “You just said you think it’s boring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re not going to dance for me, why did you even invite me in here?” Bin asked, and immediately hesitated. Had Minhyuk actually invited him into the school, or had Bin been projecting his own desires onto Minhyuk’s actions?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk crossed the dance floor in a few quick strides and stood in front of Bin. “Just wanted to hang out a bit. Maybe make out, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin had somehow forgotten just how bold Minhyuk was. “Um…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me wash up first. Dancing hard always makes me sweat a lot. I’ll be quick. Stay here.” Minhyuk scooped up his bag and stepped out of the dance studio. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin watched him head for the locker rooms. As soon as the door closed behind him, Bin sank against the doorframe, feeling a little overwhelmed. He looked down at himself, all in riding leathers, helmet still in hand. Next to pretty, slender Minhyuk, he looked like a thug. Bin was pretty lean himself, and strong as a necessity, but anyone who saw them together would probably think Bin was bullying Minhyuk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head. This entire situation was insane anyway. Bin had never kissed anyone before Minhyuk, had only had vague notions of wanting to kiss boys. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned and scanned the dance studio. It was like every ballet studio Bin had ever seen - wooden barres along the mirrored walls, a sound system and piano in one corner, speakers in the other corners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin had taken piano lessons when he was young, before his family fell apart. At first he hesitated, then stuck to the edges of the wooden floor as he headed over to the piano, which was a small upright. He set his helmet on top, pulled out the bench, lifted the cover off the keys, and finally sat down. Did he even remember how to play? He could kind of read sheet music, but the music on the stand was far beyond his ability, some classical pieces for the ballet dancers to practice to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin reached out, tested the keys, tried to find the starting notes for the one song he could kind of remember, that he sometimes itched to play whenever he saw a piano. His parents had sold their piano during the divorce. If Bin had ever had dreams of being a pianist, he couldn’t remember them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could remember this small melody, though, just with his right hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you played,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin snatched his hand away from the keys. “Not really, not since I was a child. I -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s hair was still damp from the shower, water droplets glistening on his collarbones even though he was wearing a t-shirt. He leaned on the piano, looking down at Bin, and even though Bin was definitely the taller of the two of them, he felt smaller all of a sudden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, did I interrupt?” Minhyuk straightened up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I was just waiting for you, I -” Bin surged upward, banged his knee on the underside of the keyboard, stumbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk caught him by the shoulders. “Hey. Relax. It’s fine. You won’t get into trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were standing so close. Bin could feel how Minhyuk was still warm from the shower, could smell his soap and shampoo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “Do you still have to work? We could get some food before I lock up for the night, or -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk, Bin realized, was just as nervous as he was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin said, “Kiss me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk curled his hands around Bin’s biceps, leaned up on his toes, and closed his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin closed his eyes and leaned down to meet him. Minhyuk’s mouth opened under his, and Bin delved in to taste. He reached out, wrapped his arms around Minhyuk’s waist and pulled him in close, kissed him deeper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kissing Minhyuk felt like an end unto itself, like lips and hands on lips and skin were all that was needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>be</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this world. When Bin pressed his palm to Minhyuk’s chest to savor his warmth, he could feel how Minhyuk’s heart fluttered against his ribcage like a hummingbird desperate for freedom. When Bin traced the delicate knobs of Minhyuk’s spine down, down, down, Minhyuk hummed happily into Bin’s mouth and arched against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow Minhyuk managed to work his hands under Bin’s leather jacket, and he settled them on Bin’s hips, warm and strong. Minhyuk tilted his head, pressed a delicate series of kisses from the corner of Bin’s mouth to a spot just behind his jaw that made his knees weak, and he stumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin pulled back, off balance, and accidentally dragged Minhyuk with him. They tripped and crashed into the barre. Bin banged his head on the mirrors. Somehow Minhyuk got a hand on the barre and stopped both of them from tumbling to the ground. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, wow, I - are you okay?” Minhyuk blinked up at Bin, dazed and breathless, and for a moment he looked very young and innocent, but for his kiss-red lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Bin panted. “You?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded, wide-eyed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah - what now?” Bin asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You probably have to get home. I have to finish cleaning and lock up,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He and Bin were still pressed together against the barre and mirror, looking right into each other’s eyes. The barre dug sharply into Bin’s back, but he could feel every inch of Minhyuk from shoulder to hip to thigh, sleek warm muscle and the soft cotton and denim of his clothes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Home can wait a little longer,” Bin said, and kissed him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk hummed happily against Bin’s mouth once more, and Bin couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunbae, I’m so sorry, the front door was unlocked, but I forgot my phone,” a girl said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin’s eyes flew open. He went to shove Minhyuk away, but Minhyuk put one hand on his arm, stilling him, and turned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heejoo-ssi,” Minhyuk said. “Where did you last see your phone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl in the doorway froze, one hand to her mouth. Bin had seen her outside the hagwon many times, laughing and talking with Sua. His heart crawled into his throat. Would she recognize him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl bowed several times. “Aigoo, sunbae, I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize you were with your boyfriend. If I could just look around?” She straightened up and gazed at Minhyuk tentatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Minhyuk said, perfectly calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin’s heartbeat stuttered. Minhyuk hadn’t denied Bin was his boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead and look around,” Minhyuk said. “I still have to clean, so I’ll be here for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl nodded and bowed again, and then she scurried away from the dance studio.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin went to call out after her, but Minhyuk shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let it go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if she tells someone you were here with a boyfriend -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can handle myself,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin bit his lip. “I could tell her the truth, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is the truth? We were making out,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re supposed to be cleaning,” Bin said, still feeling uneasy about the girl having walked in on them like that. What if it had been someone else, like an instructor? Or, worse, Sua? “Won’t you get in trouble for staying too late?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sometimes I stay late practising and sleep here, and then I can also practice in the morning before school,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. “Where do you sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a futon and some blankets in the storage room.” Minhyuk shrugged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin wanted to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Show me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he forced himself to take several deep breaths. He said, “You didn’t tell her I wasn’t your boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk gazed up at him. “What are you, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - we don’t even know each other’s phone numbers.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So? You always know where to find me. Do you not like me? Is it just kissing for you?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s more than that,” Bin said, because it was, but he didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was. “I don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk said again, “I can handle myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sounded so confident, but Bin was pretty sure he was starting to be able to read the shadows in Minhyuk’s eyes for what they really were, and Minhyuk was just as afraid of all of this as Bin was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me.” Minhyuk held out his hand. “Give me your number.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin reached into his pocket for his phone and surrendered it. For the first time, he was embarrassed by how old and simple his phone was. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked for his phone number for anything unrelated to school or work. But Minhyuk tapped at his phone, navigating it easily, and programmed in his number. When he handed it back, Bin had one new contact: Rocky. No hearts or other emojis, just two characters: 라키.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Bin had a chance to offer to give Minhyuk his number, his phone buzzed. Message from Dad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where are you? Are you all right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d better get home,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He pocketed his phone and picked up his helmet, turned to go. Then he turned back, caught Minhyuk by the wrist, reeled him in, and leaned down for a good night kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sunbae, I found it - omo! I’m so sorry again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin sighed and pulled back, straightened up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The girl in the doorway was bowing, red-faced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m glad you found it, Heejoo-ssi,” Minhyuk said, unfairly calm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded and scurried away. A few moments later, Bin heard the front door open, then close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really hope you don’t get into trouble,” Bin said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe not with instructors, but what about your parents, or the other students?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head. “Like I told you, I can handle myself. You’d better get home before you’re too tired to drive safely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can also handle myself,” Bin said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk towed Bin out of the dance studio and down the hall to the front door. “Then get home safely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will,” Bin said. It felt like a promise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk pressed a kiss to Bin’s cheek, then pushed open the door and gently herded Bin out onto the sidewalk. “I’ll see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Bin said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minhyuk offered him the faintest of smiles, closed the door, and locked it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bin drifted back over to his bike, feeling both light-headed and heavy at the same time. What had just happened? He pulled on his helmet, sent a brief message to Dad that he was on his way, and fired up his bike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he got back to his apartment building, he parked his bike around back in the shed, which was kept securely locked, and paused at the bottom of the stairs. He sent Minhyuk a message, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Home safe.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he headed upstairs and greeted Dad, who had cold ramyeun waiting for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What took you so long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Delay after my final delivery,” Bin said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dad nodded and handed him some chopsticks. Bin reheated the ramyeun in the microwave, ate quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he went to bed, there was no reply from Minhyuk.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Bin’s temperature had been on a steady climb since he first saw Minhyuk begin to dance earlier, and he’d expected an encore of their previous kisses, hot and a little frenzied, but this was different. This was gentle, welcoming. It was like a conversation. </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was a response the next morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Glad you made it safe. Good night.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at his phone and wondered what the right response was. In webtoons, couples were supposed to text each other often, right? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good morning!</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>What did you have for breakfast?</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck at school!</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you! Wish we could share lunch.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had never been that kind of person. Dad never checked up on him like that. They both had things they needed to do, and they trusted each other to get them done. (Should Dad trust Bin, when Bin was making out with Minhyuk instead of doing deliveries or getting home on time?)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time lunch break rolled around, Bin still wasn’t sure what to send to Minhyuk. Minhyuk hadn’t sent any other messages. Was he waiting for Bin to send something first? Or was dating different for two boys? It wasn’t like Bin could ask anyone. Maybe he could read some BL webtoons? But he knew full well that those were terribly unrealistic, and half of them were written by girls who’d never dated anyone anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For three days, Bin puzzled over what to send to Minhyuk. A cute selfie? Bin could take pretty decent selfies, especially since he sometimes had to send proof shots of deliveries completed, in the absence of having a smarter phone. Some kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good luck with dance practice?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Maybe he should ask if Minhyuk had received the results of his audition.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he realized. If Minhyuk passed the audition, he’d be moving to America. When? Right away? At the end of the semester? At the end of the school year? After high school? Could Bin handle a long distance relationship? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Who was he kidding? He’d never handled any relationship before. Bin wondered if he should drop by the hagwon again, just to say hello in person briefly. Had that girl - Heejoo? - told everyone about catching Bin and Minhyuk making out? Was Minhyuk having a hard time? Or was he right, and no one cared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so trapped in his head about anything, besides the stress of working off his debt to the gangsters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have to deliver money for Sua’s tuition for another week. Maybe he should wait till then before he went to the hagwon so he didn’t seem so clingy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he was staring at his phone, leaning on his bike and sipping a banana milk and refueling his bike, a text message came in. From Rocky. An address and a time and plain instructions: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Be there.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin texted back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Proof that I can handle myself. Can you handle me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t have to hear Minhyuk to know he was wearing that skeptical expression, eyebrows slightly raised, dark eyes challenging, mouth solemn.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bin said. He glanced at his watch. He had a few more hours to make deliveries before he had to meet Minhyuk. Was it a date? Should he dress nice? Minhyuk hadn’t said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s phone buzzed again. Incoming delivery. He checked both addresses, fired back a response - he would take the job - and finished off the bottle of banana milk. He tossed the empty bottle, finished filling his bike, and it was back to work. He’d see Minyuk in a few hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could handle Minhyuk.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin parked down the side alley behind the building Minhyuk had given him the address to, locked his helmet in the seat compartment, and headed for the door. According to the handwritten sign on the side door, he could just go in, follow the other signs to the event. What kind of event? Bin headed down a narrow cement staircase, along a dimly-lit hallway. Halfway down the hallway, he could hear the dull roar of a distant crowd. What was this place? The sign on the front of the building said it was a print shop. The signs on the walls were just arrows directing him to the end of the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farther Bin walked, the louder the crowd became. Was it a concert? At the end of the hall was a set of double doors. Bin stretched up on his toes and peered through the little rectangular window in one of them and saw a crowd gathered around a circular space cordoned off in the middle of the room. People were cheering and waving signs and banners and light sticks. There was sound equipment but no instruments. Bin slipped into the room and was hit with a wall of sound. He flinched, craned his neck. It took some maneuvering and a few strategically-placed elbows before he found a spot on the other side of the room from the doors, up on some heavy wooden crates beside some other boys, where he could see over the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was this some underground fighting ring?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No way. Minhyuk wasn’t a fighter. He was a dancer. He risked terrible injury if he fought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin fished his phone out of his pocket, checked it. No message from Minhyuk. He tapped out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m here,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but there was no reply. He shoved his phone back into his pocket and rocked back on his heels, waiting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The double doors opened, and the crowd parted to let a dozen people through. They all wore nice clothes - suits, slacks, button-down shirts. Some were in all black. Some were all in white. Three boys were in red and black.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stepped into the ring, and the noise from the crowd surged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twelve boys arranged themselves in a formation, four groups of three. What was going on? Some kind of fight tournament? Bin scanned their faces, and - there. Minhyuk. In tight black pants and a red button-down shirt. He looked damn good. Sexy. Dangerous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone whistled shrilly, and the noise from the crowd died down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Music started to play. It took Bin a moment to recognize the song. Love Shot, by EXO.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it going to be a ballet cover? Bin had seen those on YouTube before, ballet covers of pop songs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vocals started, and the boys began to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was not a ballet cover. It was a cover of the original choreo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s breath caught in his chest. He’d never imagined Minhyuk could dance like that. Why wouldn’t Minhyuk be able to dance hip-hop? The school taught both. Minhyuk referred to himself as a male ballet dancer. Only had he ever said he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> do hip-hop?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin remembered the last time they’d talked, how Minhyuk said he thought hip-hop was sexy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t look away from Minhyuk. There were eleven other boys, and they were probably all good dancers, but all Bin could see was Minhyuk, the roll of his chest, the slide of his hips, the way he moved his hands. The heat in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though the lights were focused on the dancers and the crowd was left in darkness, Bin swore that at one part, Minhyuk looked right at him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>smirked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Ballet was about grace, smoothness, flowing, sweeping extensions and perfect turns and soaring jumps. This dance was sharp, aggressive, demanding intense control. Bin knew Minhyuk was strong, had to be to dance how he did, but watching the sinuous lines of Minhyuk’s limbs, the sway of his hips made Bin think that Minhyuk was a hundred percent right: he could handle himself. And probably Bin too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the song ended, the audience erupted into deafening cheers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dancers assembled, breathing hard, and took their bows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, all but three of the dancers stepped out of the ring, and more music started. Each trio was doing their own performance, then. Bin scanned the crowd, tried to spot Minhyuk, but he was hidden among the other dancers in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk and his two red-clad partners stepped into the ring, Bin felt anticipation curl in his chest. What would they do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Music rose, a woman’s voice, singing in English. Bin had heard the song before, didn’t understand much of it. But he did understand part of the chorus. Watching Minhyuk move like that made Bin’s pulse race. He was beautiful. And so damn sexy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t wanna be somebody without your body close to me,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the woman sang, and Minhyuk caught Bin’s eye again, flashed him a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The performance ended far too fast, and by some unspoken signal the audience crossed the barricade, swarming the performers to congratulate them. Bin was torn between hopping off the crate and wading through the crowd and staying where he was till he could see Minhyuk clearly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand closed around his ankle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin started, hands out to catch himself if he fell. He looked down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was looking up at him. Even in the dim light Bin could see the sweat gleaming at Minhyuk’s collarbones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stepped down off the crate and landed in front of Minhyuk. “I said I would.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had to shout to be heard over the din of chatter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk curled his hand around Bin’s wrist, tugged, and Bin let Minhyuk lead him out of the crowd, out of the room, down a side hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since when do you dance hip-hop?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since I was a child, same as ballet,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled, pleased. “I never said I didn’t, but - you’re surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “Yeah. I -” He looked Minhyuk up and down. “You’re right. Hip-hop is sexy. Ballet can be sexy, too. I think you’re sexy when you do ballet. But this is - </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you like it,” Minhyuk said. “I hoped you’d be surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very surprised,” Bin said. He swallowed hard. “So, I came. Have I proved that I can handle you? You can definitely handle yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can</span>
  </em>
  <span> you handle me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you don’t have any other surprises like, uh, Love Shot, sure,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pressed closer. “Are you really sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin faltered, fell back a step. Came up short against the wall. This side hallway was so narrow. “Um -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk braced his hands on either side of Bin’s body and pressed in even closer. “Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart was beating like a jackhammer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk leaned in, a whisper away from a kiss. “Moon Bin-ssi, can you handle me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d kind of like it if you called me hyung.” He exhaled shakily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s mouth curved in the faintest wicked smile, and he said, “All right, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hyung,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> and closed the distance between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This kiss was soft and slow and unbearably sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s temperature had been on a steady climb since he first saw Minhyuk begin to dance earlier, and he’d expected an encore of their previous kisses, hot and a little frenzied, but this was different. This was gentle, welcoming. It was like a conversation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pressed little kisses to the corners of Bin’s mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did something happen today?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin smoothed his thumb over Minhyuk’s cheekbone and nipped softly at his lower lip, smiling against his mouth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not much. I missed you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk slid his hands up and down Bin’s sides, warm and slow, and parted his lips so Bin could lick his way inside. </span>
  <em>
    <span>So what did you do?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin flicked his tongue against Minhyuk’s, savoring the way the other boy tasted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I came here to see you. I wanted to kiss you some more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shivered in Bin’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy’s voice, a light tenor, filled the hallway. “Rocky-hyung, are you hungry? You want to go get some - wah! My eyes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk groaned and pulled back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Minhyuk’s fellow red-clad dancers stood just inside the hallway, one hand clapped over his eyes in dismay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other dancer - shorter, a couple of years older - appeared, smirking. “Looks like Rocky-ah is pretty hungry, but not for pork belly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk cleared his throat and took a deep, steadying breath. “Sanha-ya, Jinwoo-hyung. Thank you for the invitation to dinner. But Bin-hyung and I can find a meal on our own.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanha, who was startlingly tall, peered through his fingers. “Is it safe now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s safe.” Minhyuk rolled his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart pounded. This was the second time people had walked in on them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanha let his hands fall to his sides. “Well, good dancing tonight. See you at practice.” He blinked at Bin, wide-eyed, and backed up, stumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinwoo caught him and steadied him. He nodded cordially at Bin, bade farewell to Minhyuk, and steered Sanha out of the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as their footsteps had faded into silence, Minhyuk looked up at Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin licked his lips. “You were saying hello after a long day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled and stepped closer. “Yes, I was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned up to kiss Bin again, but Bin caught him by the shoulders, spun him, pinned him against the wall. Minhyuk gazed up at Bin, wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My turn,” Bin said, and leaned down, captured his mouth in a heated kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk groaned and wound his arms around Bin’s neck, drawing him in even closer so they were pressed together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could have stayed there forever, kissing each other endlessly, driving each other higher and higher with the delicious scrape of teeth and the slide of tongues and the delicate flutter of lips on skin. Bin ducked his head down and nibbled on Minhyuk’s throat, drunk on Minhyuk’s gasps and moans as he squirmed against Bin, hanging on tight and keeping him pressed close. Bin managed to work a hand between them, stroking the soft fabric of Minhyuk’s shirt, addicted to the flutter of his racing heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Bin even knew what he was doing, he was working open the buttons on Minhyuk’s shirt, and then Minhyuk put a hand on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait. We shouldn’t. Not here. Not like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin opened his eyes. Minhyuk’s eyes were endlessly dark, his gaze deep enough to drown in. His mouth was red, kiss-swollen, and Bin wanted to kiss him again, but then he looked down at Minhyuk’s half-bare chest and forced himself to take a step back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Ah - what - what now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Food,” Minhyuk said. “We should get food. I’m starving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Food. Of course. Minhyuk, like Bin, had been at school all day, and then probably at least an hour of training after, and then probably rehearsals for his performance, and he’d just danced really hard, so - food. Food was definitely necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. What are you hungry for?” Bin didn’t have a lot of money, probably couldn’t shell out for pork belly like Minhyuk might have had with his friends, but he could get something, couldn’t he? After all, he was Minhyuk’s boyfriend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most likely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled. “You forget my parents are caterers. I have gourmet leftovers. Come on. We can have the hagwon all to ourselves. I have a key. Let me run and get my bag, and we can go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. Minhyuk hurried away, leaving Bin lingering in the narrow, dim hallway by himself. Now that Bin was alone, he felt terribly unsure. What the hell was he doing with Minhyuk? They were from two different worlds, had goals and priorities that were poles apart. And yet - and yet they were both essentially alone in their worlds. And they’d found each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was a brilliant dancer. There was no way he hadn’t passed his audition. He’d be leaving soon. Bin knew better than to allow himself to dream about happily ever. He’d take what he could get with Minhyuk while he would get it, and that would have to be enough to see him through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk reappeared with a familiar gym bag slung across his back. “Let’s go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and peeled himself away from the wall, and they made their way back up onto the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever ridden a motorbike before?” Bin asked, offering Minhyuk his helmet. He didn’t have a passenger one, because Dad had his own helmet, and Bin had never had a passenger before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on tight, and lean with me when I turn. Don’t fight it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded, gaze solemn, and put the helmet on. Bin had to help him with the strap, and it was like a moment out of a drama, where Bin was leaning in almost close enough to kiss him, focused on making sure he was safe. Minhyuk looked up and met Bin’s gaze. The moment between them was electric even though they’d kissed plenty of times at this point. A pink blush spread across Minhyuk’s cheeks, and even though Bin knew he was blushing too, he was charmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hop on,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk scrambled onto the back of the bike and immediately scooted close, arms tight around Bin’s waist but not too tight for him to breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready? Remember to lean with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how to move with a partner,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was taking a risk, riding without a helmet, but Minhyuk’s safety came first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know how to get to the hagwon from here?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He could get anywhere in the city at this point. How had Minhyuk gotten here? But Bin didn’t linger on the question, fired up his bike, and they took off. Minhyuk was a warm, solid presence against Bin’s back. The way he was snuggled close, leaned with Bin made Bin feel strong. Trusted. That was probably all in his head. Where Minhyuk could practically fly while dancing basically barefoot, he had impeccable balance and core strength. Leaning into a curve like this was probably no big deal for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made it to the hagwon in good time. The sign above the door was dark, but Minhyuk did have keys, and he opened the front door, showed Bin inside. Bin wondered if they’d eat in one of the practice rooms or the office, but Minhyuk led Bin to almost the end of the hallway and unlocked another door, and there, amidst stacks of dusty boxes, was a futon with a comforter folded neatly beneath a pillow. A school uniform on a hanger hung from one of the shelves, and there was a stack of textbooks beside the futon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You basically live here,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk did pause at the door and take off his shoes, so Bin did the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to clean up and change, but you can get started.” Minhyuk dragged a cooler out from between two stacks of boxes and smiled at Bin, then headed back to the locker rooms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s parents were incredibly supportive of his dream, if they let him sleep here like this. Bin scanned the room, curious, but it was devoid of other personal effects - there were no pictures of Minhyuk’s family or friends, no knick-knacks or old toys. Just school gear and probably what was all dance gear, crammed into multiple identical gym bags. How did Minhyuk know which was which? He probably had them separated by type: ballet, hip-hop, more ballet. Unless he trained in other styles too? Weren’t there tap dance lessons at this school?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin opened the cooler tentatively, in case its contents were stacked precariously. Everything was in little plastic containers, stacked neatly, as if by some kind of food container Tetris genius. Bin lifted several out, opened them, sniffed them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth watered. Dumplings. Fish cakes. Marinated barbecue beef. Sweet potato noodles. Sweet rice cakes. Spicy rice cakes. Pure white rice. Pretty kimbap rolls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin inhaled the scent of the sweet potato noodles, and his throat tightened. His mother made her japchae just like this, must have used the same sauce. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, but -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need me to get some plates? I usually eat right out of the containers, but -” Minhyuk paused in the doorway, alarmed. His hair was damp and his skin gleamed and his arms were bare in a tank top. He was beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Just, um, give me a moment.” His voice cracked. He turned away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk knelt beside him, placed his hand on the floor beside Bin’s, but said nothing, didn’t touch him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had to swallow hard several times, paw at his eyes, and take five deep breaths before he got himself under control. What the hell? He never lost it like this, hadn’t missed his mother this much since he was a little kid and having nightmares in the new, scary, dingy apartment he shared with Dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, quietly, “If you don’t want to be here, I understand. I know this is basically my bedroom, but I’m not trying to pressure you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin looked up at him sharply. “What? No! How could you think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously you’re not in the mood for anything besides food, but whatever mood you were in, it’s not so bad now, is it?” Minhyuk held out a pair of chopsticks and a spoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. “You -!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sat beside Bin, crossing his legs primly, and reached for the kimbap. “My mom makes the best kimbap. Enjoy.” He lifted a small slice of a round roll out of the container with his chopsticks and held it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hesitated. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had his own mother’s kimbap. The four of them always ate at restaurants when they spent time together, because Mom and Dad were less likely to get into a screaming match in a public place. No matter. He was here with Minhyuk. He had to stay focused on the here and now. He leaned in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk grinned and popped the kimbap into his own mouth, chewed happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin gaped. “Yah! How could you -?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk popped a piece of kimbap into Bin’s mouth. “Enjoy for real this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin chewed hastily to avoid choking. “That’s - that’s actually pretty good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents are professionals,” Minhyuk said. He arranged the already-opened containers on the floor between them, then closed the cooler and tucked it away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a wonder you’re not fat,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Burn as many calories as I do and getting fat is nearly impossible,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the fanciest thing you’ve ever catered for?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk considered. “A dog’s birthday,” he said finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin spluttered and nearly lost half a dumpling. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich people are crazy,” Minhyuk said, and launched into the tale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shared his wildest delivery stories - strange packages, strange destinations, strange customers. Minhyuk shared catering stories - amazing dishes, fancy venues, scary venues, terrible serving accidents, cooking near-misses. Between the two of them, they managed to polish off a good portion of the food. Time flew. Bin couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable with someone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way,” Minhyuk said, “next week, when you usually come, it’s the hagwon recital.” His tone was casual, and he wasn’t looking at Bin while he spoke, but Bin sensed something in his tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t mind if I come watch you? Heejoo or whatever her name is hasn’t told the entire school about catching you making out with a boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heejoo-ssi respects my privacy.” Minhyuk darted a glance at Bin, then resumed stacking the empty food containers. “You said you wanted me to dance ballet for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin did. What little he’d glimpsed of Minhyuk in the practice room that first night had been impressive. “You’d be okay with having me there? It wouldn’t make you nervous?” Nerves, he well knew, could be very dangerous to a dancer, especially one who was performing really complex or athletic moves. One wrong jump or turn or landing and Minhyuk might never dance again, or even walk again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t have asked if I wouldn’t be okay,” Minhyuk said. “Besides, you’ve already seen me perform once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” Bin conceded. “Do I have to dress up or anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not fancy, just for friends and family, so the students can show off what they’ve been learning. There’s an auditorium upstairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t have any really nice clothes besides his school uniform, but if he showed up in his uniform, would people realize he was Sua’s brother? Moon wasn’t that common a last name. He could take his nameplate off his uniform before he went inside. He and Sua didn’t go to the same school, so maybe people wouldn’t make the connection. Minhyuk said he’d recognized Bin because Bin looked like Sua, though. If Bin and Sua didn’t have the same high school uniforms, would that make things awkward for her? Plus if he was doing deliveries beforehand it was safer for him to wear his leather riding gear. The last thing he needed to do was ruin his uniform if he took a spill off his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was lost in his head for too long, because Minhyuk said, “If you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I know you think ballet is boring. But if you do decide to come, there will be a ticket waiting for you at the box office. Just tell them your name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tried to read Minhyuk’s expression, but his dark eyes were opaque and his face was as blank as ever. Minhyuk packed the empty plastic containers into a reusable grocery bag and put the bag on top of the cooler. He rose and offered Bin a hand. Bin accepted, still unsettled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be mad? If I don’t come?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head, but his expression was still unreadable. He knelt, curled a hand around Bin’s ankle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin started at the contact. “What…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your shoes,” Minhyuk said. “We should both get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was kicking Bin out. Bin </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> upset him. But Minhyuk’s hands on Bin’s feet were gentle and sure, and Bin felt himself blushing when Minhyuk tied his boot laces. It was like something out of a drama. Minhyuk leaned in, pressed a kiss to the side of Bin’s knee, which made his heart race at the unexpected brief warmth, and then Minhyuk was on his feet and lacing his fingers through Bin’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, I’ll walk you to the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin let himself be towed along, because he was very confused but also felt all fluttery inside. At the door, Minhyuk didn’t let go of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead he said, “Text me when you get home, all right?” and leaned up and kissed Bin on the cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded, a little dazed. “I will. Also - also you looked amazing tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s smile was unbearably sweet. “I danced only for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t help himself. He kissed Minhyuk on the mouth, slow and lingering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they ran out of breath, they parted, giggling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to let go of my hand first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.” But Minhyuk didn’t let go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Bin brought their hands up, brushed his lips across Minhyuk’s knuckles, and disentangled their hands. He slipped out the front door, carrying the memory of Minhyuk’s surprised and delighted expression with him, and headed for his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt warm the entire way home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as he cut the engine on the sidewalk out front of his apartment building, he got his phone out of his pocket and sent Minhyuk a text. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Home safe.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the immediate response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin felt another blossom of warmth unfurl behind his breastbone. Minhyuk had been waiting to hear from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tapped out, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sleep well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s reply was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>You too.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin pocketed his phone and took off his helmet, tossed his head as he sucked in a deep breath of fresh air. Then he walked his bike down the side alley to the shed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he was done locking up his bike, he went to head up the stairs to the rooftop. Something moved in the shadows below the stairs. As a kid, Bin had been afraid of the stairs with no risers, because what if a monster grabbed him and dragged him away and ate him? Now Bin was older and he knew better: stairs without risers made for a great ambush opportunity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t hesitate, grabbed his mini flashlight out of his pocket and brought it up, flicked it on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were hisses and curses. Good. Temporary blindness gave Bin the advantage. He stepped around the side of the stairs and reached for the nearest weapon - a discarded solid brass curtain rod - and swung it up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was more swearing when it whistled through the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t recognize the four boys, but four was overkill. That meant either they were afraid of him or the people who’d sent them were afraid of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You with the gang?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no need to say which gang, not in this neighborhood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They shook their heads. At a glance they were all high school students, none of them bigger than him. Someone from the gang was desperate, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone from the gang hire you?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boys nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What for? To fight me? Or something else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fight,” one of the boys squeaked out. “They didn’t say you were so big.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Get out of here. Don’t let me see your faces again.” He stepped back to give them space to escape from beneath the stairs, but he didn’t lower the curtain rod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three of them took off at a sprint, but the fourth hesitated. Turned. Metal glinted as he lunged. Bin didn’t think. He just swung. There was a clatter and a howl as the boy fell back, clutching his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s broken!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin raised the curtain rod again. “I’ll break more than your arm if you come near me with a knife again,” he snarled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy staggered away, shouting for his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin watched him go, his grip on the curtain rod white-knuckled, heart pounding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he could breathe normally again, he headed up the stairs. When he reached the roof, Dad was standing just beyond the stairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You all right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and finally let the curtain rod go. It fell to the cement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that a trip to the hospital won’t fix.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad sighed. “What did you do, Bin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To make them come after me? Nothing. It’s the same old games.” Bin thought of the encounter regarding his bike but shook it off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been weird lately,” Dad said. “Distracted. Coming home late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not getting into trouble,” Bin said, though that wasn’t strictly true. Sure, what he was doing with Minhyuk wouldn’t lead to him getting rolled by gangsters for money, but despite Minhyuk’s assurances, there was certainly trouble to be had for the two of them if they kept on this path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wasn’t going to be the first to step off it, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad eyed him. “Don’t make trouble for Sua and your mom,” he said finally, then turned and went into the apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He loved his sister. He’d never make trouble for her. He’d been doing his damnedest to -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, because he was an idiot, he dug his phone out of his pocket and sent Minhyuk a message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He went into the apartment, took his boots off at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want to eat? We have ramyeun and...ramyeun.” Dad stood in the kitchenette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already ate. I’m going to wash up and sleep.” Bin shucked his leather jacket and went to find clothes to sleep in and a clean towel, and he locked himself in the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at himself in the mirror, at the shadows around his eyes and his plain features and wondered what the hell he was doing with a boy like Park Minhyuk, who was going somewhere. He had to stay away from Sua, because she had the chance to go somewhere and he was a bad penny, would ruin it. What ruin would befall Minhyuk if Bin didn’t step away from him now?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s phone buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Message from Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I miss you too. Now go to sleep.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shed his clothes, turned on the shower, and stepped under the spray without waiting for it to warm up. If he swore and cursed, it was just because of the cold shock of the water and not because his life was an endless string of failures and disappointments.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dance references:</p><p> <a href="https://youtu.be/A04lRDTBMtI">Rocky, Jinjin, and Sanha in the Idol Dance Cover Challenge version of Love Shot</a></p><p>
  <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6zS7R1Anhac">Rocky's choreo cover of Close to Me</a>
</p><p>Also included are some lyrics from All Night. Cookies to anyone who can spot them!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Bin remembered bringing flowers to Sua, how he’d bounce up to the stage and hold them out for her with a deep theatrical bow, like a prince in a cartoon, and she’d laugh.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>In the days that followed the encounter with the little thugs for hire, Bin kept a sharp eye out for other junior members of the gang or other hired minions. To be on the safe side, he went to the hagwon a day early to drop off the money for Sua’s tuition, just on the off chance that someone had caught on to his pattern and had plans to roll him for the cash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last group of foolhardy boys looking to earn some street cred with the gang by rolling Bin for Sua’s tuition money were still regretting it. Deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was that the recital was tomorrow night, but the dancers didn’t stick around, bade each other farewell at the door and went their separate ways, so Bin didn’t have to wait long till the last person at the school was Minhyuk. In fact, Minhyuk had waved all the students away, encouraging them to go home and rest up, telling them they’d done well in their dress rehearsal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the last student was around the corner and out of sight, Bin darted across the street to get to Minhyuk before he closed the door and locked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung.” Minhyuk looked up at him, startled, then pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came early,” Bin said, holding out the envelope with Sua’s name on it. “Just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk blinked, then accepted the envelope. “Of course. Just in case?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin opened his mouth, paused. No way could he explain to Minhyuk that gangsters tried to roll him for Sua’s tuition money sometimes. He shrugged. “Just in case. It’s a lot of money to carry around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Do you want to come in for a bit? I’m just sweeping all the floors and cleaning the mirrors, and then we’re done for the night. Have you eaten?” Minhyuk held the door open wider, inviting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I haven’t eaten yet,” Bin admitted. “I don’t usually eat till right before bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can never sleep on a full stomach. It makes me sick. But come on in - you can eat while I clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could help you,” Bin said, following Minhyuk into the school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’ve been working hard all day. Don’t worry, I’m pretty fast, and then you can talk to me while I eat.” Minhyuk led Bin to his crash pad in the back, helped him settle in with more delicious homemade food - castoffs from the rich, Minhyuk called them - and some banana milk, and then he opened the room opposite, which was the cleaning closet, and set to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sitting in someone else’s living space while they weren’t there was always strange to Bin, who’d only been to his classmates’ houses a handful of times, always for school-related purposes, like dropping off or picking up part of a group assignment. But he sat on the floor and divided up the food into equal portions as best as he could, and he set to eating. While he ate, he kept an ear out for Minhyuk. When Minhyuk wasn’t dancing to classical music for ballet or K-pop, he listened to an awful lot of Justin Bieber, which Bin kind of liked too. He hummed along to some of the songs while he ate. Of course, the food was delicious. This time, in addition to amazing Korean food, there were some fancy little cream-topped pastries, like the kind Bin saw in the windows of expensive bakeries downtown. He sniffed one cautiously, then nibbled on it. The puffed pastry crumbled on his tongue, and the cream was rich and smooth, so Bin gobbled it down. He hummed happily to himself and eyed the other pastries, but the right thing to do was leave them for Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin finished his share of the food and drank his banana milk. Down the hall, Justin Bieber was still blasting on one of the practice room sound systems - being able to listen to music on an epic sound system must have been pretty nice - so Minhyuk was still cleaning. Bin looked around the little room some more, but it was unchanged since his last visit, all boxes and duffel bags and the cooler of food and a bag of empty plastic food containers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should Bin get up and help clean? Minhyuk would be done faster if Bin helped him clean, and then they’d have more time to…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would they do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin glanced back at Minhyuk’s futon, with its fluffy pillow and soft comforter, and swallowed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be stupid,” he told himself. “It’s not like you made ramyeun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed himself to his feet, toed on his boots, and walked down the hall in the direction of the music - a woman singing. That song Minhyuk, Sanha, and Jinwoo had danced to at that show. Bin couldn’t help but smile at the memory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where did Minhyuk keep his dance outfits? Surely not all of them were in those duffel bags. They were probably best kept neat by being hung up, right? Briefly, Bin considered going back to the storage room to explore, but helping Minhyuk was the better choice, so he poked his head into several practice rooms before he found Minhyuk, who was mopping the floor with a speed and agility born of practice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t the other students help clean up?” Bin asked, leaning in the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk finished the floor and straightened up, stretched. “We all work together to make sure the rooms are picked up, so the sweeping and mopping aren’t usually so bad. The fingerprints on the glass, though. That’s always the worst part. I’m pretty sure I never touched the mirrors in the studio when I was little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Little?” Bin echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded toward a cluster of little fingerprints halfway down some of the mirrors. “Yeah. Little kid classes begin at one, after kindergartens get out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Children’s dance classes. Why hadn’t Bin thought of that? After all, Sua had started dancing when they were very young.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin rolled up his sleeves. “Seems like you have a system for cleaning the floors, but I can handle the mirrors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really don’t have to. Go eat,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was, Bin noticed, shifting to the music, sliding his shoulders to the beat. Minhyuk hadn’t been kidding; he was born to dance. If music was playing, he belonged to it. What did Bin belong to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already ate my share,” Bin said. “The faster you get done cleaning, the faster you can wash up, and the longer we can hang out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you’re sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pointed. “There’s glass cleaner, a squeegee, and some towels over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” Bin set to work immediately, humming along with the song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You like Justin Bieber too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s all right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of music do you like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin considered. Unlike a lot of other boys his age, he didn’t have time to stan girl groups, so he listened to what was popular on the radio, for the most part, as well as his dad’s older music sometimes. He listed songs he liked, and Minhyuk listened, occasionally chiming in when he also liked the song, or had never heard of one but was intrigued by the title or the name of the band.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Bin’s help, Minhyuk finished cleaning all the practice rooms quickly, and he scampered off to wash up, leaving Bin to relax on the futon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk returned from the locker room, he was wearing basketball shorts and a tank top to sleep in. He plopped down on the floor and reached for the container of pastries first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sat up straighter. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life is short, eat dessert first.” Minhyuk shrugged and scooped up one of the pastries, bit into it. Sighed happily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those are really good, aren’t they?” Bin hugged his knees to his chest and watched Minhyuk, pleased that he was enjoying himself, which was silly, because it wasn’t like Bin had made the pastries or anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sanha’s mom is an amazing pastry chef,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sanha? That tall kid you danced with?” Bin didn’t say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>That tall kid who walked in on us making out.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. His mom works with my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that how you met?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head. “Sanha dances at the same hagwon as Jinwoo, my cousin. His mom works with my parents, too, and after she met Sanha’s mom she introduced her to my parents, and here we are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin studied Minhyuk. “Do your parents know about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk looked away for a moment. “They know there’s someone I like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to Bin that somehow he and Minhyuk had come at this relationship business backward: making out first, asking questions later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do they know you’re gay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I’m the oldest child, so it’s only theoretical to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin swallowed. “Why haven’t you told them about me? If they know you’re gay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk bit his lip, stared at his hands. Then he peered up at Bin through his lashes. “I like having you to myself. If I tell them about you, they’ll want to meet you and have you over for dinner and supervised study dates. Would you rather sit and watch old episodes of The Great British Baking Show with my parents or hang out here, just the two of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s mouth fell open. “And people say I’m a bad boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What makes you so bad?” Minhyuk tilted his head, studied Bin. “Is it the motorcycle? The earrings? The leather jacket? There’s at least one male ballet variation I can think of that requires dancing in leather pants.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s so much you don’t know about ballet.” Minhyuk yawned and stretched his arms over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, Bin was understandably distracted by the way the hem of Minhyuk’s tank top rode up, exposing a strip of smooth, golden skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk winced and rolled one of his shoulders after he lowered his arms, and he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin knelt beside him, put a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Did you hurt yourself during dress rehearsals?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might have overdone it a bit,” Minhyuk admitted. “But it’s fine. I’ve had worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin often rubbed his dad’s shoulders after a hard day’s work at the construction site. Bin was no professional massage therapist by any stretch of the imagination, but it was easy for him to slide his hand toward Minhyuk’s neck more firmly till he found the knot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk made a wordless sound of pain-pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found it,” Bin said, working the knot carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk went limp under his hands, sighing happily. “That’s amazing. Your hands are so strong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin felt his pulse speed up a bit. “I think your hands are bigger than mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk didn’t reply, slumping against Bin while Bin continued to give him a shoulder rub. Eventually Bin shifted so he was kneeling behind Minhyuk, Minhyuk resting against Bin’s chest while he worked. How Minhyuk could even move when his neck and shoulders were iron-solid from all the knots was a mystery, but Bin worked steadily and diligently. This close, Minhyuk was intoxicatingly warm, and Bin could smell his shampoo and soap, a clean, soft scent, like moonlight on a warm summer night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How am I doing?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin paused, leaned in closer. “Minhyukie? Am I doing all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was asleep, curled trustingly against Bin’s chest. Bin’s heartbeat stuttered. Minhyuk’s face was slack, lips slightly parted. Bin took a deep breath, then shifted carefully. Minhyuk stirred, murmured, but was obedient and pliant as Bin settled him back on the futon, put the pillow under his head and tucked the comforter around him. Bin eased himself to his feet and crept over to the door. He grabbed his boots, then turned off the light and slipped out of the store room. In the hallway, he put his boots back on, then headed for the front door, turning off lights and closing doors as he went. It took him a moment to figure out how to lock the front door without locking himself in. He made sure he had his wallet, phone, and keys to his bike before he stepped out, and then he pulled on his helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t remember the last time someone had fallen asleep beside him like that, quiet and trusting. He climbed onto his bike and headed for home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way up the stairs to the roof, Bin realized he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had just trusted him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled to himself, and then it occurred to him: Minhyuk hadn’t asked whether Bin would be at the recital tomorrow night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he think Bin wouldn’t be there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Bin had decided: he would go, and he would watch Minhyuk dance.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Bin had a lot of delivery requests waiting for him as soon as school finished. By the time he finished his last delivery before the recital, he was tired and hot, but he had enough time to duck into a convenience store and change into his nicest jeans and shirt and fix his hair before he headed to the hagwon. The convenience store owner knew him well, smiled and told him he looked good, and gave him a discount on his banana milk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin grinned and thanked her, and then he flew out the door to his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be late to the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he arrived at the hagwon, the sidewalk was crowded with people, families and little kids in bulky coats over their dance costumes. Bin thought maybe he recognized Minhyuk’s parents, but as he’d only seen them briefly at that one fancy house where he’d delivered mussels, he wasn’t really sure it was them, though the woman maybe kind of looked like Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin lingered in the shadows across the street. He usually never came this early. Would he run into Sua or Mom? He didn’t see any of the older dancers lingering out front.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plenty of people had flowers to give to the dancers. Should Bin have brought flowers? Would it look weird if he brought flowers for Minhyuk? It never hurt to have flowers, right? Minhyuk was a dancer, same as the rest. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserve flowers just because he was a boy. Bin glanced at his watch, then cast about. And - there. Down the street. A flower shop. Bin fished his wallet out of his pocket and dashed down the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to La Fleur, how can we make your life more beautiful today?” the man behind the counter asked. He was wrapping a bouquet in fancy paper with deft hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah - can I get a couple of single blossoms?” Bin had limited funds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man - Myungjun, according to his nametag - nodded. “What kind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roses were a little too romantic, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s appropriate to give to a dancer? For a recital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the hagwon across the street.” Myungjun nodded knowingly. “Daffodils mean respect, and hydrangeas mean pride. Yellow poppies mean success. Sunflowers also mean respect. A red tulip means fame.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about two red tulips?” Bin said. He had no doubt that one day Minhyuk would be a famous dancer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it would be less weird, if he had the same flower for both of them, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But would Minhyuk feel bad?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean - one red tulip, one daffodil.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun was unfazed by Bin’s indecision. “All right. One red tulip, one daffodil, coming right up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun used some delicate little greens with both blossoms before wrapping them in delicate tissue paper, to make them not look so lonely. Bin paid and thanked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoy the show!” Myungjun called after Bin as he hurried to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across the street, the sidewalk was practically deserted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman sat at a table, from which hung a sign that read </span>
  <em>
    <span>box office.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin took a deep breath, then crossed the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I help you?” the woman asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah - there should be a ticket waiting for me,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart pounded. “Moon Bin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looked surprised. “Oh! Yes, of course, it’s right here.” She slid an envelope across the table to him. “Should I tell the person who left the ticket for you that you’re here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anxiety clawed its way up Bin’s spine. He cleared his throat. “Ah, no, that’s fine, thank you.” He didn’t want to distract Minhyuk at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman nodded. “Of course. It’s up the stairs and to your left. Your seat number is on the ticket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin inclined his head politely. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found the staircase - it was behind a pair of double doors Bin had previously thought was a dance studio no one used - and then the auditorium, which was a proper auditorium, with a stage and lights and permanent seating. Bin fumbled the ticket out of the envelope. It was printed like a real ticket, like the kind at a cinema, and it had a row letter and seat number.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the seats were full, and the house lights were quite dim. People chatted, children fussed, and plenty of parents had camcorders and camera phones at the ready. Bin picked his way down the aisle and discovered that he had a really good seat in the middle of the central section, close to the front. He had to apologize his way across the row, stepping over people’s legs as carefully as possible. His seat was sandwiched between a middle-aged woman with a voluminous faux-fur coat and a bored-looking girl, maybe five years old, who was kicking her feet and sucking on a lollipop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin barely had time to shrug out of his jacket and settle the flowers carefully across his knees when the house lights went down and a spotlight appeared at the front of the curtained stage, where a woman in a ballet leotard, flowing skirt, and tights stood beside a man in skinny jeans and a tank top, both holding microphones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to our quarterly recital! Thank you for coming to support our dancers and our school. Our students have been working very hard to prepare these performances for you, so please show them lots of love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone applauded, and the instructors departed, and the curtain started to rise. Bin had been to some of Sua’s recitals before, when they were little, but he didn’t remember much of them. The kid portion of the recital was adorable at first. Tiny tots as young as four came shuffling out onto the stage, some bright and bubbly and excited, waving and shouting at their parents, some nervous and sniffling, most of them blank and expectant. The woman in the leotard and skirt stood at the edge of the stage, and when the music started, she bobbed to it, and the kids started bobbing too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. They were following her. What they did was less of an actual dance routine and more of a catalogue of basic moves, repeated on both sides, plus some cute turns and poses, but they were pretty adorable all the same. Most of the kids could only kind of follow. One little girl - the majority of the tiny dancers were girls - was clutching her skirt and staring at her feet, and it was super cute to see another girl stand beside her and try to help her. More than one energetic kid was ignoring the music and instructor completely and doing her own thing, twirling and posing and grinning, but it was cute all the same. Those kids were born performers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Each song was brief, but the kids had costumes that more or less went with the theme of the music - flowers or animals or little superheroes. There were multiple kid classes, and each class did the same song, so that got old. But it wasn’t just ballet - it was also tap and basic hip hop. There were more boys in the tap and hip-hop classes. The chaos of a bunch of tap shoes clacking out of rhythm made Bin cringe. How had he sat through this as a kid? Probably about as well as the kid fidgeting beside him. The parents all looked so proud, though, filming their kids and applauding and cheering loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Bin watched the tiny boys swagger their way through a vague hip-hop routine, he wondered if Minhyuk had been like this once upon a time, tiny but full of attitude. Bin wished he could see videos or pictures of tiny Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all the tiny kid classes, up to about age eight or so, there was a break, which was good, because Bin needed to stretch and run to the restroom. When he got back, no one had disturbed his flowers and jacket, which was good. Also there were tons of tiny dancers posing in front of the stage, getting their pictures taken and beaming and holding the flowers their parents had brought for them. Bin remembered bringing flowers to Sua, how he’d bounce up to the stage and hold them out for her with a deep theatrical bow, like a prince in a cartoon, and she’d laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lot of the families with little kids left, which made sense, because it was probably close to bedtime for those little kids. Some families stuck around, though, tiny kids in bright costumes sitting on their parents’ laps. And that was because the second half of the performance was starting, with the older kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin resumed his seat. Finally, he’d get to see Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sua.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The jump in dancer skill and choreography complexity was startling between the first half and the second. Bin watched the ballet dancers and wondered which of them would go on to be on those posters he saw near the fancy theaters downtown. Which of the tap dancers would be in musicals or on talent shows on TV? Which of the hip hop dancers would go on to become idols? Bin had heard G-Dragon trained for eleven years before he debuted. How did a kid that young know what he wanted to do for the rest of his life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk knew. He wanted to be a dancer. He’d started dancing when he was very young and he’d stuck with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did Bin want to do with his life?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Sua took the stage with three other girls, one of whom Bin belatedly recognized as Heejoo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hadn’t seen Sua dressed up to dance in - almost ten years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His throat closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked beautiful. In the many years since they’d been apart, Sua had grown into a lovely young woman, and she was an amazing dancer, all flowing, graceful lines and beautiful extensions. Bin had never much cared for stiff tutus and pink ballet shoes, but his sister was amazing. He’d never realized that this was what all his hard work had been going toward. Every day after school when he climbed on his bike, or at the end of the day when he and Dad ate lame food and grumbled about their tired bodies, Bin could only think bitterly of his mother and how she screamed at Dad over money all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t just money. It was the opportunity for Sua to learn and improve, and she had come farther than Bin could ever imagine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resentment, sudden and sharp, lanced through Bin’s chest. All those years that his mother had told him and Dad to stay away meant they’d never had the chance to see what kind of dancer Sua would become. Looking at some of the leaps she did, though, Bin could see why their mother didn’t want her distracted before a show. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the dance, Sua and Heejoo and the other two girls took their bows, and the audience applauded. Bin heard people murmur about how Sua and Heejoo were two of the best dancers in the school, and Bin was fiercely proud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he wondered. If Sua was that good, how good was Minhyuk in comparison? Was he actually pretty good, or had Bin just not seen any other dancers to compare him to?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only then Minhyuk was on the stage with two boys and three girls, all of them wearing black pants and black tops and little denim jackets and shiny shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A tap number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And - wow. Bin felt terrible for doubting Minhyuk. Even if Bin was biased, Minhyuk was clearly the superior dancer in the group. Also, how was it possible to move feet so fast? And not just fast but to create a cool-sounding rhythm, and also turn and pose and smile and stay on beat with the other dancers? Because if one person messed up, the rhythm created by the shoes got lost in the chaos of sound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end, Minhyuk bowed and grinned, breathless, but he looked alive. And happy. Happier than Bin had ever seen him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone applauded, and Bin felt no shame in cheering loudly as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua reappeared on stage for a hip-hop number with some other girls, and once again Bin was impressed, because she looked like she was in an idol group. She’d always had attitude, but up on stage she channeled it so she was fierce and confident, and Bin was so proud of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shied away from the thought that boys at her school probably adored her. Did she have a boyfriend? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Best not to think about that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin watched how smooth and controlled her movements were, and he wondered how hard it had been for her to learn to dance like that, how long she’d had to practice to make it right. He wondered, if he’d gone to dance lessons as well, if he’d look that good, if he’d be able to dance with Minhyuk like Sanha and Jinwoo had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the song ended, Sua struck a sassy pose, and Bin cheered with abandon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, it was a boys’ hip hop number. Minhyuk wasn’t among the dancers, but Bin didn’t feel cheated, because he’d seen Minhyuk dance hip-hop, and this performance didn’t hold a candle to Minhyuk in blazing red. But when that was followed by a boys’ ballet number, also without Minhyuk, Bin wondered how much Minhyuk would be dancing tonight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The answer was: a lot. Because after that number, Minhyuk and Sua strode out onto the stage together. Both were dressed in sleek black and red, were barefoot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had never imagined Minhyuk actually dancing with Sua, brief commentary about lifts aside, but then the music started, sultry American R&amp;B, a deep man’s voice over a heavy beat, and they started to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s mouth fell open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What followed was full of energy and passion that was part fury, part desperation, and reminded Bin of all the first time he and Minhyuk kissed, frenzied and heated. Bin wasn’t sure if this was ballet or hip-hop or what, because the extensions looked sweeping and ballet-esque, but the footwork was heavier, more aggressive, like hip-hop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Sua and Minhyuk were looking at each other, holding each other, pushing and pulling on each other, like they wanted to devour each other, was -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin closed his mouth so fast his teeth clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Also they were jumping and leaping and tumbling like they were flying, and the way Minhyuk lifted and carried Sua should have been impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Were they fighting or embracing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The audience was on its feet and roaring when the song ended, when the pair of them took their bows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of them looked pleased and relieved. Where they’d looked passionate and sexy during the performance, both of them were grinning sweetly, and then the lights went down and they hurried off the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A woman murmured about how Minhyuk was the best dancer in the school, would be world-famous one day; every girl wanted a duet with him, because he always made his partners look good. Sua had been lucky to get him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t really register the tap performance that followed, or the hip-hop one after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk reappeared on stage, this time with Heejoo. She wore a simple white shift and white tights, was barefoot. Minhyuk wore a white shirt and looser tan pants, was also barefoot. The music that played for them was slower, softer, a lighter man’s voice and acoustic guitars. But this performance was no less impressive, with the leaps and jumps and holds. Bin had never thought ballet could be this interesting, and also he really had underestimated how much a boy ballet dancer did, because Minhyuk wasn’t just there to hold and lift Heejoo and show her off; he was her partner in every sense of the word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together they were telling a story, so different from the one with Sua, but Bin could understand it anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, the audience was on its feet while the dancers took their bows, and Bin was with them, cheering at the top of his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After, Bin sank down in his seat, heart racing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why this school is worth it, no matter how expensive it is,” a man behind Bin said. “It produces the best dancers. In a few years, we’re all going to be paying top prices to see them on big stages.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were more hip-hop, ballet, and tap performances, and the senior students were phenomenally talented. All of Bin and Dad’s hard work had been worth it, so Sua could become this dancer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed down the lump that rose suddenly in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house lights went down, and something in the air shifted. Bin straightened up, wary. Was it some kind of big finale? Only when the spotlight came up, there was only one person on the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk. Barefoot, shirtless, wearing what looked like a pair of ripped white skinny jeans. Bin recognized the song that started to play, by Shawn Mendes, so this was going to be a hip-hop number, or something like it, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrong. It was a ballet number. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a second, Bin couldn’t breathe, because Minhyuk was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest, because Minhyuk was literally flying as he soared through the air with his leaps and jumps. But it wasn’t a series of fancy ballet tricks. The song was </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> Minhyuk’s body, and he was singing it loud and clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Consuming all the air inside my lungs</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ripping all the skin from off my bones</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m prepared to sacrifice my life</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I would gladly do it twice</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wanted to gather Minhyuk in his arms and hold him tightly, promise he’d never hurt again, but he was also afraid that if he touched Minhyuk he’d be burned by the energy pouring out of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The audience was so stunned by his performance that when the music ended and he stepped out of his pose and took his bows, it took them a moment to move, but then Bin was practically deaf from all the cheering, and he couldn’t even hear himself shouting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The little girl beside him was covering her ears, but her mouth had fallen open and she’d lost her lollipop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>People were still cheering when the curtain fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dance instructors came back out to the front of the stage, and the audience settled. The instructors thanked the performers, the other instructors, the parents and families of the dancers, and everyone who’d helped prepare for the performance. Two of the senior dancers brought bouquets to the instructors, and there was more cheers and applause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the dancers came out for final bows, and there was even more cheering and applause, but once the house lights came up, the show was officially over, and the audience surged out of their seats to go greet their precious dancers.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Dance references:</p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/QBMIuizrgQw">Sua and Minhyuk's duet</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/EtbsSvjhscg">Heejoo and Minhyuk's duet</a>
</p><p><a href="https://youtu.be/KDZqzOHfdvE">Minhyuk's solo</a>, which was a fortuitous find, given that Rocky once sang a pretty cover of <a href="https://youtu.be/Ku3GuU317U8">Mercy</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Sua came up short. “You know Bin-oppa well enough to call him hyung?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“He doesn’t like it when I call him oppa,” Minhyuk said, with that understated smile of his.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bin rose slowly and waited till the row cleared out so he wouldn’t have to climb over anyone. Finally, he shuffled over to the aisle, clutching his jacket but trying not to clutch the flowers too tightly. Dancers holding bouquets and flowers posed in front of the stage for their adoring parents and families. Bin hung back, searching for Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spotted Sua first. She was posing with Heejoo and the two other girls she’d done the ballet dance with. It took Bin a moment to identify his mother among the middle-aged women who were taking pictures of the girls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bit his lip, unsure of how to proceed. Would it be weird to show up and offer her a flower? Should he ask someone else to give it to her? That would be even weirder, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s mother called out, “Minhyuk-ssi, your duet with my Sua was amazing. Pose for a picture with her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned, and sure enough, there was Minhyuk, still barefoot and wearing a t-shirt with his ripped white pants, which weren’t actually jeans but wow Bin kind of wanted to sink to his knees and run his hands up Minhyuk’s legs and - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin-oppa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin froze. Sua, Minhyuk, and his mother were all looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came!” Sua flew at him and flung her arms around his neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He staggered beneath the force of her embrace. “Sua-ya, yes, I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled back. “Did Dad come? Mom said you’d both be too busy with work, like all the other times, but I told them to save a ticket for you like I always do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin glanced at Minhyuk over Sua’s shoulder. He’d thought Minhyuk had saved a ticket for him, but Minhyuk’s expression was blank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad had to work,” Bin said, ducking his head to avoid his mother’s sharp glare. He held up the tulip. “This is for you. It means fame. You’re going to be famous one day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua pounced on it, beaming. “Thank you, oppa! I’m so glad you’re here!” She grabbed his arm and towed him over to her friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin saw the moment when Heejoo recognized him. Her eyes went wide and she darted a look at Minhyuk, then visibly clenched her mouth shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heejoo, Chaeyoung, Euntak, I’ve told you about my Bin-oppa.” Sua was beaming. She looked up at Bin. “They thought I was making you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bowed his head politely. “It’s nice to meet you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Euntak and Chaeyoung - Bin wasn’t entirely sure who was who - looked him up and down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua, you said your oppa was handsome, but I didn’t think you meant this handsome.” One of them winked at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ducked his head again. “Sua got all the looks in our family. You’re too kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom said, her tone pinched, “Sua, Minhyuk-ssi is waiting.” She waggled her phone meaningfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo was still staring at Bin with wide eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom beckoned to Minhyuk, and he bowed slightly and stepped closer to Sua. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung raised her phone. “You should take a picture with Heejoo too! Since you did a duet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure everyone wants a picture with you,” Mom said. “Sua, stand a little closer. You danced with him. You know he doesn’t bite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk and Sua posed together obediently. Minhyuk didn’t smile much, but Mom didn’t seem to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin clutched the other flower and wondered how best he could give it to Minhyuk without seeming like a total weirdo - or, worse, that he’d shown up not for Sua but for Minhyuk, which wasn’t exactly the situation, but it had never occurred to him to find out for himself when Sua’s recitals were and just show up without telling either Mom or Sua. Apparently Sua had wanted him to come for a long time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Mom snapped a few pictures, Heejoo tugged on Minhyuk’s arm and asked for a picture with him, so Sua stepped aside and Heejoo clung to Minhyuk’s arm and beamed while her mother took pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two looked great today,” Sua said to Heejoo, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo said, “You too! Maybe next time I’ll get to do the hardcore dance and you can do the soft one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy called out, “Minhyuk-sunbae, come get a picture with us!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said to the girls, “Excuse me,” and started to turn away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin caught his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smooth as can be, Minhyuk veered toward him. Bin held out the flower, and Minhyuk accepted it discreetly, nodding, before he went to pose for pictures with the tap dancers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo watched him go, then looked at Bin again. He held her gaze until she looked away, and she said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, Dad, let’s go get some food! I danced so hard today. We can watch the video you took while we get tteokbokki and trotters, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her dad hugged her. “Anything for you, my dear. Let’s go! Congratulations again,” he said to Sua and the other girls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Euntak and Chaeyoung drifted away with their families, leaving Bin, Sua, and Mom standing beside the stage.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Sua said, “You never text or call. I mean, I know boys are like that, and you and Dad work a lot, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin darted another glance at Mom. Sua didn’t know Mom had told him and Dad to stay away from Sua and out of her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very sorry.” Bin stepped closer to his sister. She was a year and a half younger than him, but until their parents had split they’d been inseparable. “I’ll try to do better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua eyed him. “You’d better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean it. I am really sorry I haven’t come to one of your recitals sooner. You’re such an amazing dancer. You’ll remember me when you’re famous, right?” Bin raised his eyebrows hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua struck a dramatic pose. “If I must. An idol must be humble, after all. I will remember the little people who helped me get here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin offered a dramatic bow in return and murmured, “Your grace is immeasurable,” which was what people always said to the king in the boring historical dramas Dad used to watch, and Sua giggled and swatted at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay fine. You’re forgiven. Now, let’s go get some food and you can tell me all about how awesome I was. I need to go get changed, though.” Sua started for the door. “Don’t go anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded, but he could feel the weight of his mother’s stare on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Sua was out of sight, his mother said, “Why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I was invited.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua doesn’t need you hanging around, causing trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bit his lip, lowered his gaze. He’d always been hot-headed, ever since he was a child. That fight he’d gotten into, where that other boy had been badly hurt, that had cost their family dearly, though more in reputation and stress than in cold hard cash. But Bin had been young, and he was under no illusion that that one incident had been the sole cause of his parents’ divorce. Even though Dad hadn’t touched a drop of liquor since the split, Bin knew that, more than anything else, more than even the stress of never having enough money, had been the match that lit the flame that burned their family down. Bin felt like he and Dad had been eating ashes ever since.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom said, “Since you’re here and Sua will be upset if you just leave, you can eat with us, but stay away from her from now on, you hear me? Stay away from this school, and -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin-hyung,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom cut herself off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk had changed into regular clothes, stood just inside the doorway. “Are you going to help me sweep up tonight? My parents brought some really good dumplings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom raised her eyebrows. “You know each other, Minhyuk-ssi?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “Yes, Ahjumma. I see him every time he comes to drop off money for Sua’s tuition, plus we’ve run into each other at our jobs before.” His expression was polite and friendly but not too friendly. He crossed the auditorium but maintained a careful distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You work as well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I help with my parents’ catering business, and Bin-hyung has done emergency deliveries for us before when we’ve run out of ingredients. He’s very good at his job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you two are...close?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got to talking one night when he came by with the payment, and he helped me clean a bit. I suppose since Sua is a dancer he’s very understanding about dancers. Most boys who aren’t dancers aren’t so understanding about boys who dance, especially boys who do ballet.” Minhyuk glanced at Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was Minhyuk doing? Did he know Mom did her best to keep Bin and Dad away from Sua?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom eyed Minhyuk, then Bin. He couldn’t read her expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua said, “What’s this about Bin making payments?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at his mother. Did Sua not know that Bin worked so she could have dance lessons?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s how Bin-hyung and I met,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua came up short. “You know Bin-oppa well enough to call him hyung?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t like it when I call him oppa,” Minhyuk said, with that understated smile of his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart skipped a beat. Would Sua figure out what was going on between them? Minhyuk was out among the other dance students and his parents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua swatted at Bin. “Is </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> why you came? To see Minhyuk-sunbae instead of me? O-</span>
  <em>
    <span>ppa!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin flinched. “No, it’s not like that, I swear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly, I don’t care why you came, I’m just glad you came,” Sua said, and Bin’s chest tightened again. “Now come on! I can finally eat some spicy ramyeun!” She started tugging Bin toward the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s stomach turned at the thought of yet more ramyeun, but at least it wouldn’t be instant ramyeun. “I’ll have to take a rain check on those dumplings, Minhyukie. Sorry about not helping you sweep. Next time, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and waved, cool and casual. “Next time, hyung.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom followed Bin and Sua to the door. “There’s a nice ramyeun place down the street. We often go there after recitals,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can take a bowl for Dad,” Sua said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom’s expression turned pinched. Bin said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad probably already cooked himself dinner, and cold ramyeun is no fun, but I’ll tell him you thought of him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Dad a good cook now?” Sua asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, but we haven’t died of malnutrition yet,” Bin said, and it was only half a joke, but Sua laughed, and Bin was glad. He didn’t want to burden her with how things were for him and Dad. Even if Bin resented that Mom lied to Sua about why Bin and Dad stayed away and were always working, Bin didn’t want Sua to feel guilty about her dance lessons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom walked briskly, but Sua hung back, so Bin dropped back to keep pace beside her. He wasn’t sure what to say. All this time, he could have come seen her, and why hadn’t he? Because he was a terrible brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone buzzed in his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua was distracted by tapping at her phone. Bin wasn’t surprised that she didn’t really know how to talk to him either. He fished his phone out of his pocket to check the message. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was from Sua. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was Minhyuk-sunbae saying about you dropping off money for my tuition?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin glanced at her sharply. She met his gaze, raised her eyebrows. She expected a reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin darted a glance at Mom, but she was moving ahead at a brisk pace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua pinched him on the wrist. Bin hissed and jerked away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom glared at him over her shoulder and kept walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s phone buzzed again. Another text from Sua. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Has Mom been lying to me about you working hard to make money for racing your motorbike?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at the message, anger and hurt and confusion roiling in him. Mom had told Sua that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua fired off another message. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve always been a terrible liar. Mom’s been lying to me about what’s going on with you and Dad, hasn’t she?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin looked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brandished her phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin texted back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t know what Mom has been telling you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua sighed. She tossed her head and sent, </span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll talk about this later. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua-ya, Bin-ah, hurry up.” Mom stood at the door of the ramyeun restaurant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bobbed his head obediently and picked up the pace, held the door open for his mother and sister. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, they found a table, and Mom flagged down the woman who ran the restaurant. She ordered spicy ramyeun for all of them - and then proceeded to talk to Sua and only Sua about how well she had performed that night. Bin ate in silence, stomach churning all the while, mind racing. Mom was always telling him and Dad to stay far away from Sua. What had she been telling Sua about Bin and Dad, about why they never came to see her and barely spent time with her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom went on to criticize how Heejoo and the other senior girl dancers had done compared to Sua, and Bin saw that even Sua looked annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom, Heejoo, Chaeyoung, and Euntak are my friends, and we all worked hard together,” Sua said finally. She turned to Bin. “What did you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you looked amazing, and I’m really sorry I haven’t come to your recitals since we were little. You’ve worked hard and come far, and I’m really proud of you,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua beamed at him and held up her tulip. “I’m going to be famous one day, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Bin said. He cleared his throat. “Um, what do you plan on doing when you’re older? Like - what kind of dancing? Minhyukie says he wants to go to a fancy ballet school in America, but that you’d be able to find work in Korea as an idol, or a company dancer, or a teacher, if you wanted?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua fixed Bin with a sharp gaze. “You call him </span>
  <em>
    <span>Minhyukie?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurred to Bin that he’d never said Minhyuk’s name aloud to, well, anyone but Minhyuk. “Ah - yes. He’s younger than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom eyed Bin. “Minhyuk-ssi talked to you about Sua?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s my sister,” Bin said flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he like Sua?” Mom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s eyes went wide. “Mom!” she hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t mean like that,” Mom said, clicking her tongue dismissively. “You know you’re not allowed to have a boyfriend.” She turned back to Bin. “I meant, does Minhyuk-ssi have good things to say about Sua as a dancer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dammit. Bin shouldn’t have mentioned Minhyuk at all, but he didn’t really know what to say to his own sister, not when their mother was there glaring daggers at him the whole time for daring to breathe the same air as her. The way Sua was looking at Bin made him deeply, deeply nervous that she suspected that he and Minhyuk were more than regular friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, he hasn’t said Sua’s a bad dancer,” Bin offered. “We don’t talk about Sua much, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Truth was, they didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. Mostly they just...ate and made out, not necessarily in that order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wasn’t about to say that in front of Mom and Sua, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua said, “How close </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re close enough to drop formalities.” Bin shrugged and hoped he looked casual. Time to redirect the conversation. “So, tell me more about that hip-hop routine you did. That was really cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua seemed to sense the redirection for what it was, but she nodded and started describing it to him anyway, the complexity and difficulty of the choreography, like fast footwork, or sections that required her to carefully maintain her balance, or covering a lot of ground in a few moves. She talked about all the fine points of dancing to look out for, like the extensions in a dancer’s lines, and their hands. An inexperienced dancer might be able to memorize choreography quickly, but they’d probably miss the finer points, like making sure they had energy all the way through their fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You probably saw it, right? With the little kids. How all their hands flopped like dead fish on the ends of their wrists.” Sua flapped her hands to demonstrate, and Bin couldn’t help but giggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that you mention it, yes, I did see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that Sua was talking about dancing and Bin was mostly staying quiet, Mom seemed less annoyed, so Bin kept prodding Sua to tell him more about the technical aspects of dancing. He felt his phone buzz several times but ignored it, listening to Sua and basking in her presence. He’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed</span>
  </em>
  <span> her so much and hadn’t even realized it. Would he be able to go back to only seeing her a few times a year?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you, oppa?” Sua asked. “What do you do, besides school and work and coming to see me dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, really,” Bin said. “Um. Read webtoons on my phone during breaks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua laughed and rolled her eyes. “Really? You don’t hang out with your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin opened his mouth to tell her he had no friends besides Minhyuk, paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom said, “We’re all finished eating now. We have to go, Sua. You have school tomorrow, as does Bin, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua looked at Bin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Yeah, I’d better get home. I’m sure Dad is home by now and wants me to check in with him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom went to pay for the meal, for which Bin was grateful, because he hadn’t planned on eating out at all in the next couple of weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you,” Sua said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you too,” Bin said, equally quiet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll discuss other things later.” Sua’s gaze was piercing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He wanted to find out what was going on, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom came back to the table, and Bin helped Sua carry her dance bag back to Mom’s car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua hugged him, and then he bowed stiffly at Mom before they got into the car, and Bin watched as they drove away. As soon as the tail lights faded from sight, Bin headed back to his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the missed texts on his phone were from Dad: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where are you?</span>
  </em>
  <span> And, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s late. Answer me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>One text was from Minhyuk, which was a selca of him posing with the flower Bin had given him and the message, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks for coming tonight. It meant a lot to me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shoved his phone into his pocket, pulled on his helmet, and hopped onto his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the ride home, he let the rumble of the engine soothe him, and he wondered. Had Minhyuk wanted Bin to come to the recital to see him, or to see Sua?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Bin pulled up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Well - who are your friends?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“What friends?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“You have that some-girl. You called her your very good friend.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I don’t have a some-girl,” Bin said.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes, this is a short chapter.</p><p>Also, make sure to check the tags before you dive into this one.</p><p>Also, a some-girl (or some-boy) is a not-quite girlfriend (or boyfriend).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Where have you been?” Dad’s tone was accusatory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to put my bike away,” Bin said once he had his helmet off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t answering your phone.” Dad crossed his arms over his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was somewhere I had to turn it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin considered just not telling his father, because his father’s sudden concern after not giving a damn for months on end was unwelcome. But then Bin realized that if he didn’t tell Dad where he’d been, Mom would. With screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was at Sua’s dance recital,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad rocked back on his heels. “What? I told you to keep away from her and your mother and not bring trouble down on their heads.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tossed his head. “It was one damn recital. I haven’t seen Sua dance in years. You and I work like damned dogs to make sure she can have the best lessons. Didn’t I deserve, just once, to see what all my work has been for?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t the first time you’ve been out late. Have you been hanging around Sua a lot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moon Bin!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve - there’s someone I like,” Bin said finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad blinked. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we not talk about this where all the neighbors can hear?” Where someone could report to the gang, Bin meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad cast a wary look around, hunched his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to lock up my bike. I’ll meet you upstairs.” Bin wheeled his bike past Dad and down the alley to the shed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the apartment, Dad was waiting in the kitchenette, watching a pot of water heat on the stove.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want some ramyeun?” Dad asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already had some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With this girl you like?” Dad cut him a sharp look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With Mom and Sua after the recital. Mom didn’t want me to stick around after and talk to Sua, but you know how it is, Sua wanted to catch up with me, and Sua gets what she wants.” Bin felt guilty for the bitterness in his tone, but he was tired and confused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve been spending time with some girl?” Dad asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I have someone I like. Sometimes we hang out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure,” Bin admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad cleared his throat. “Do you use protection?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s face flamed. “Dad! It - it’s not like that. I said we like each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, she likes you back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin scrubbed a hand over his face. “Can we stop talking about this, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad’s voice rose. “You can’t afford to get distracted, Bin. If you’re turning down delivery jobs to spend time with some - some </span>
  <em>
    <span>some-girl,</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’s a problem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin lifted his head sharply. “I haven’t been turning down jobs. I work a full day, same as you. So if I spend time with my </span>
  <em>
    <span>good friend,</span>
  </em>
  <span> of course it means I’ll be home late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t afford to be out late.” Dad tossed his head impatiently. “If you’re too tired you won’t do well in school -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin snorted. “Since when do you give a damn how I do in school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad struck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin caught his wrist before he could land the slap. “You don’t get to hit me. No one does.” But his voice shook, because even though Dad had been stupid falling-down drunk and crying and screaming a thousand times, he’d never raised his hand to Bin, not once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad looked like he was the one who’d been almost slapped. He tried to pull free, but Bin squeezed his wrist warningly. Dad was strong, worked construction, but Bin was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fighter. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Surprise flared in Dad’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin-ah. Do you think I don’t care how you do in school?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin dropped his father’s wrist and turned away, shrugging off his jacket. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Seeing how the apartment was only one room, if Bin wanted real privacy he’d have to sleep in the shed with his bike. It wouldn’t be the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad put a hand on Bin’s shoulder. “Bin-ah -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shook his hand off. “It’s late. I’m tired. I just spent an hour with Mom staring at me like I’m mud on her shoe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad closed his eyes, pained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t have the energy to care. He grabbed clean sleeping clothes and locked himself in the bathroom to wash up. When he was finished, Dad was washing dishes in the kitchenette. For a few moments, Bin considered grabbing his jacket and going to sleep in the shed, but he wouldn’t sleep well, and he needed to be well-rested so he didn’t crash his bike during deliveries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he settled down on the floor as far as he could get from where Dad usually slept, and he closed his eyes and started to count sheep. It was easy to ignore Dad puttering around as he shut down for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Dad said, “Bin-ah, I do care how you do in school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin opened his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad was sitting beside him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin closed his eyes and rolled away from Dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Dad reach out, felt the warmth of his hand hovering, but no touch came.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin, you should do well in school so you can grow up and become -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? A doctor or a lawyer or something? I’ll be lucky to graduate high school and get a job in a factory or doing construction, like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to college,” Dad said quietly. “So did your mother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bit back a comment about how Dad had drunk his career away, so what good had college been for him in the end? And what good had college been for Mom, if she, Dad, and Bin together were barely enough to keep their malfunctioning family afloat?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“College isn’t for me. I’m just a screw-up who gets into too many fights, remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad sighed. “Bin-ah -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sat up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah! Don’t talk to me like that. I’m your father.” Anger flared in Dad’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever had been simmering in Bin’s veins since he’d first made eye-contact with his mother that night finally boiled over. “You’re not my father, you’re my roommate. We work, we pay the bills, we sometimes have food together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am your </span>
  <em>
    <span>father</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you will -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Respect you? I pay half the bills around here, same as you.” Bin tossed the comforter aside and balled his hands into fists. “You’re not even one of those half-assed parents who’d rather be a friend. Do you know what I want to be when I grow up? Do you know what I do for fun? Do you know who my friends are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never tell me anything.” Dad sat back, expression mulish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin met his gaze and held it. “What is there to tell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad sighed. “Fine. What do you want to be when you grow up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not indebted to gangsters and allowed to spend time with my own sister without having to feel like trash.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not a dream, Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wanted to laugh, or to scream. “What makes you think I </span>
  <em>
    <span>dream?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad looked disconcerted at that response. “Well - who are your friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What friends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have that some-girl. You called her your very good friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a some-girl,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad’s brow furrowed. “Well - what do you do for fun?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do we really have to do this right now? Weren’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> telling me that I’m supposed to be well-rested?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you want me to do? Do you want me to care about your life or not?” Dad threw his hands up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Maybe five years or three years or even one year ago I wanted you to care about my life, but...let’s just keep things the way they are, all right?” He flopped back down to his pillow with a sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Binnie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Binnie, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin exhaled shakily. “Me too, Dad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started counting sheep again, steadfastly ignoring his father’s presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep before he reached a hundred.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Bin felt warmth unfurl in his chest. He reached up, stroked Minhyuk’s hair gently. “Since when are you so soft?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Minhyuk turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of Bin’s wrist, making his pulse race. “I’m not soft. I’m just with you.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next day, after Bin finished with his last delivery, he headed on over to the hagwon, because he hadn’t been able to spend any time with Minhyuk after the recital, and he figured Minhyuk deserved a little celebration, even though his parents had probably celebrated his success thoroughly, and with gourmet food to boot. He parked his bike across the street, like he always did, and lingered with his helmet on, watching the dance students doing their after-class socializing. He scanned the crowd and spotted first Heejoo, then Sua, then Euntak-and-Chaeyoung, but not Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Sua spotted him. She cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oppa, is that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heads turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shifted, uneasy with the scrutiny - and the way Sua had announced their familial relationship for anyone to hear. He cast about but didn’t see anyone suspicious tailing him; he’d been keeping an eye out for a tail since that last attempted ambush at the stairs below his apartment. But a bunch of the students were looking at him, so he took off his helmet and locked it in the seat compartment and then jogged across the street.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Daebak,” Sua said. “I knew you did deliveries but I thought it would be on a goofy little scooter or something.” She tugged lightly on the sleeve of his leather jacket. “You look so cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin glanced down at himself, then at the other students who were, big surprise, looking at him like they thought he might be kind of a thug. Which wasn’t entirely the wrong impression, but not one he wanted Sua’s friends to have.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The jacket protects me if my bike crashes, same as my helmet,” Bin said. “It won’t save me from broken bones, but from road rash and the like it will. Same with the boots and the sturdy jeans. I do have leather chaps for if it’s going to be a really cold or wet day, but - um. Never mind. How was class today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Sua said brightly. “Did you come to hang out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just to say hi, before I head home,” Bin said. “I finished my last delivery of the day, so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo was doing her very best not to stare at Bin and, as a result, was making it painfully obvious that she was avoiding looking at him. The other students were looking back and forth between Bin and Heejoo. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua grinned at him. “Well, hi. Do you usually work so late?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes earlier, sometimes later.” He shrugged. “Do you have time to get dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he wanted to spend time with Minhyuk, he and Sua needed to talk. Bin had slept terribly the night before after the argument with Dad. Bin always got up and left before Dad so he could get to school for early morning study at six, so they hadn’t spoken yet today, and he had no idea what, if anything, Mom had said to Dad when she called him to yell about Bin showing up to Sua’s recital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s expression turned grimly knowing. “Sorry, oppa. I have a group project I need to work on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. Text when you’re free.” Bin smiled at her, and she nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek, making him blush, and then she waved goodbye to her friends and trotted away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin watched her go and knew he probably ought to go back to his bike and head home. Maybe that was for the best, judging by the way the other students were staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yo!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk poked his head out the door. “You here to help me clean up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool. We can eat after.” Minhyuk beckoned to Bin, opened the door wider for him. To the other students, he said, “Don’t stick around too long. I’m locking up now. Have a good night. Go safely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stepped further into the hallway, out of sight of the rest of the students, while Minhyuk locked the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you miss me?” Minhyuk asked. “I danced really well last night, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hadn’t really thought of Minhyuk’s performance all day; he’d brooded on his messed-up family and itched with some inexplicable need to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> Minhyuk to make all the noise in his head die down. But now he recalled, with startling clarity, Minhyuk’s bare torso and muscular legs as he danced, the heat in his gaze, the sexy little smiles he’d cast as he danced, the passion and fervor in his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really well,” Bin said finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk drew closer. “But did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could Bin possibly say that would accurately convey, even fractionally, how much he’d missed Minhyuk, had </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin reached out, put his hands on Minhyuk’s hips, and tugged him in close so they were looking into each other’s eyes. Even though Minhyuk was solid muscle beneath Bin’s hands, the way he was looking up at Bin, solemn and wide-eyed, was making Bin’s heartbeat stutter. It made perfect sense to lean in and kiss him solidly on the mouth, over and over again till his lips parted and Bin pressed in to taste him more thoroughly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk tasted like iced tea and the faint tang of sweat and exertion and something else, something that was just him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though Bin’s heart was racing, because kissing Minhyuk was more thrilling than speeding on the bike by far, the noise in his mind was finally fading to calm silence, and Bin reveled in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Minhyuk panted when they finally parted for breath. “You missed me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin went to pull him in close for another kiss, but Minhyuk slipped out of his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do need to finish cleaning up, though. You can have some food while I work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can help you.” Bin shrugged off his jacket and followed Minhyuk down the hall to the cleaning closet. It was no big deal, to open the door to Minyuk’s storage closet and toss his jacket in there onto the futon, then roll up his sleeves and help Minhyuk drag the cleaning cart down the hallway to the first practice room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk told Bin he could choose the music. The hip-hop and tap students had a wide selection beyond classical music, like big band and jazz and swing, hip-hop and R&amp;B and numbers from musicals.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned on some Justin Bieber just to see Minhyuk’s pleased smile, and they set to work. Bin swept, and while Minhyuk was mopping, which was far more physically demanding, Bin worked on the mirrors. Whenever Bin knew a song, he sang along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Between the two of them they finished quickly and went to push the cart back into the closet before they trotted over to the practice room to turn off the music. The song had changed from a bouncy R&amp;B song to something a bit softer, with acoustic guitars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk reached for the sound system, paused, turned back to Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin came up short. “Me? No. I’m a terrible dancer. I took dance lessons with Sua for like two seconds when we were kids and it was such a disaster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can keep a beat, can’t you?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of,” Bin said. “This song is kind of fast, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk stepped closer to Bin, guided Bin’s hands to his waist, then wrapped his arms around Bin’s neck, just like in American high school movies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then we can go half time,” Minhyuk said. “Can you feel that? Instead one-two-three-four it’s one-and-two-and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swayed slowly in Bin’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shuffled with him tentatively. “Like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and rested his head on Bin’s shoulder. His warmth and closeness was calming. Bin smiled and moved with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sang along softly. Even though Bin couldn’t understand the English lyrics, he could tell Minhyuk was singing well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you can’t do?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk hummed thoughtfully. “Draw. Speak English. Math.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Math was the one subject at school Bin was good at. Probably because he’d had to learn how to handle and manage money at an early age.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dancing with you is nice.” Minhyuk sighed and snuggled closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t help but ask, “Does this even count as dancing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dancing with you is the best kind of dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin felt warmth unfurl in his chest. He reached up, stroked Minhyuk’s hair gently. “Since when are you so soft?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned his head and pressed a kiss to the inside of Bin’s wrist, making his pulse race. “I’m not soft. I’m just with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Bin could ask what that meant, the song ended, changed to a faster, louder one, and Minhyuk stepped back. Bin missed his warmth immediately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What now?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned off the stereo system. “Now I go wash up and we can have some food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and followed Minhyuk out of the dance studio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time it wasn’t so strange, to hang out in Minhyuk’s room while he wasn’t there. This was probably like university, right? Hanging out in each other’s dorm rooms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin knew where the food cooler was kept, so he selected several containers of dumplings and side dishes and arranged them neatly beside the futon. When Minhyuk returned, toweling his hair off, Bin smiled up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready to eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled back and nodded, sat down opposite Bin. He scooped up a pair of chopsticks and said, “Eat well!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As always, the food was delicious. Bin wondered just how expensive the food Minhyuk’s parents cooked was, because it tasted better than the food from any restaurant Bin had ever been to, not that he’d ever been to fancy ones, and best as he could tell, Minhyuk’s parents did fancy catering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After an evening listening to Sua talking about the technical aspects of dance, Bin felt like if he asked Minhyuk what he’d thought of the performance, he’d be able to understand, but Minhyuk said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did it take you to save up for your bike?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not too long, to get the bike itself,” Bin said. “But it was a wreck when I got it. Saving up to buy parts to fix it - that took the better part of a year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded thoughtfully. “Is your dad a mechanic? Did he help you fix it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Dad got his college degree in accounting. I probably got my math skills from him.” Bin didn’t talk about how Dad had drunk his career - and home and family - away. Minhyuk, if not the other hagwon students, was clearly aware that Sua and Bin came from a broken home. “No, I watched a few videos on YouTube at the school library on fixing bikes, but I mostly did it myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you borrow books from the library or anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shook his head. “I just - did it. Borrowed tools from Dad at the construction site till it was done. It’s all mine, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk stared at him. “You know most people can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> that, right? Just fix a broken bike with barely any instructions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Internal combustion engines are simple. Dad worked at a scrap yard right after he and Mom split, and he let me tinker with broken engines, so - a bike was much easier. I need my bike in top condition so I can work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin,” Minhyuk said, oddly insistent, “really, most people can’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>do that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin frowned. “What, you don’t believe me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean, yes, I believe you. But - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bin.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Don’t you get it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get what?” Bin asked. “You don’t even have to go to college to learn how to fix a car. It’s kind of dirty work, but it pays all right, I guess? I know I’m not going to college, so maybe I’ll learn how to fix cars. A garage will hire me, right? If I show them the bike I fixed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk set his bowl and chopsticks aside and reached out, placed his hands on Bin’s shoulders. “Moon Bin, I don’t think you realize it, but you just might be a genius.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shrugged his hands off. “What? Don’t say such weird things.” His heart thumped oddly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was gazing at him with a strange, almost feverish light in his eyes. “I’m not being weird, just honest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a genius. You’re a dance genius, and Sua is -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk about Sua right now.” Minhyuk leaned in closer. “I want you to understand that you did something incredible with your bike.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shook his head. “You’re being weird -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk silenced him with a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin dropped his chopsticks and steadied himself with his hands, because Minhyuk was climbing onto his lap and kissing him insistently, soft little nips that were making Bin lose his mind. Heat built under Bin’s skin, and the next thing he knew he was tumbling onto the futon and Minhyuk was crawling on top of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest, and his blood was </span>
  <em>
    <span>burning,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he wanted to get his hands under Minhyuk’s clothes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> as much of his skin as possible and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” With an incredible heave, Bin pushed Minhyuk back. “What are we doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sat back on his haunches, blinking muzzily, face flushed, lips red and full, breathing hard. “Um. Sorry. I - I guess I really like smart boys? I don’t really know what happened. I didn’t mean to attack you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin huffed. “You like smart boys? Why are you spending time with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk looked hurt. “Because I like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin froze. They’d never actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>said</span>
  </em>
  <span> the words before. He’d told Dad he liked Minhyuk, because he did, but -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you too.” Bin swallowed hard. “Um. We’ve done this backwards, haven’t we? We kissed long before we ever confessed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk laughed softly. “You’re right. We did do this backwards. But - we’re still us, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “But if you like smart boys -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a smart boy and I like you,” Minhyuk said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smoothed his shirt down, and Bin realized there were kiss-bruises on his neck and collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But maybe we shouldn’t. Um. Here.” Minhyuk cleared his throat and reached for his water bottle, drained half of it in one go. “Let’s finish eating, and then maybe you should go. Before we get into trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if they weren’t getting into enough trouble as it was, but Bin nodded and cast about for his dropped chopsticks. Minhyuk handed him a clean pair, and they finished their meal quickly, darting nervous glances at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the meal was done, Bin helped Minhyuk clean up, and he gave Minhyuk a quick peck on the cheek before he grabbed his jacket and put on his boots and saw himself out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside, he sank against the wall and took several deep breaths. Minhyuk was crazy, but Minhyuk </span>
  <em>
    <span>liked </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin straightened up, shook himself out. He had to get home. He dug his keys out of his pocket and headed across the street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unlocked the seat compartment and reached for his helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A girl said, “Oppa.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>They're dancing to 10,000 Hours by Dan + Shay, Justin Bieber</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“It doesn’t matter because he’s leaving soon. He auditioned for a fancy ballet school in America. You said it yourself - he’s the best dancer in this generation. There’s no way he failed the audition. This thing between us isn’t going to last, so I’m going to enjoy what I can get before it’s gone.” Bin swiped a hand over his face again. He refused to cry.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bin’s pulse leaped at the familiar voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua stepped out of the shadows. Heejoo trailed behind her, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Bin could formulate a response, a boy said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is your girlfriend. She’s hot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin spun around, cast about for a nearby weapon, but there was nothing. He gripped his helmet tightly. A helmet to the skull was no joke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were five boys ready to gang up on him this time. Bin didn’t recognize any of them, but then this was far outside of the gang’s territory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua opened her mouth to protest, but Bin cut her off with a sharp look. He drew himself up taller, tossed his head carelessly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, they’re not my girlfriends. They’re just fun to mess around with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo made an offended noise, but Sua shushed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the boys stepped closer, leered at Sua. “Then you won’t care if I have a try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stepped between him and Sua. “I don’t share what’s mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy looked him up and down. “I don’t know why they’re so scared of you. You’re not that big. You’re as skinny as a girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kept a wary eye on them but his tone casual. “No, I’m just skinny like me.” What was their plan? Were they trying to distract him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the other boys drew a knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin struck first, smashed the first boy in the face with his helmet. He went down with a howl and a spray of blood. Bin was on to the next boy before he could even blink, kicking him in the side of the knee as hard as he could. That boy went down with a sickening crunch of bone, and Bin slammed his shoulder into the next boy. He went down, and Bin stomped on his ribs, kicked his knife out of reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other two boys ran. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned back to Sua and Heejoo, who were staring at him in horror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out of here,” he said. “Before they bring friends.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oppa,” Sua began, voice shaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” Bin said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Run.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“But -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk later,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll talk now.” Sua snatched his helmet from him. Bin hoped the boys hadn’t gotten a good look at them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo stared at the boys on the ground who were bleeding and crying. One of them was trying to climb to his feet. Another was crawling toward the knife. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin swore. “On my bike. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Both of us?” Heejoo asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now!” He started the engine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two girls scrambled on, Sua clinging tightly to him while Heejoo hung onto her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which way to your bus stop?” Bin asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua was the one who passed on the message, then the reply. Bin headed straight for the bus stop, parked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo scrambled off the bike and plopped herself down on the bus stop bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go,” she said. “You should go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shook his head. “Not till your bus comes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine,” Heejoo said. She couldn’t look at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt churned in Bin’s gut, cold and heavy. “One of those boys had a knife.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo let out a shaky little laugh. “At least one of them may never walk again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “You’d be surprised at what a person can do, if they’re determined enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heejoo and Sua both stared at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s my bus.” Heejoo was on her feet and signaling to the driver of the oncoming bus. Whether it was actually her bus or not, Bin didn’t know, but at least she’d be away from this place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as she was on the bus, Bin started his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a place that’s open late,” Sua said. She climbed onto Bin’s bike and put on the helmet. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua gave him directions to a cafe near her high school. He parked his bike down a side alley, still jittery with adrenaline. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell was that back there?” Sua demanded. “You - I know you got into a fight once when we were kids, but…” She swallowed hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing Mom didn’t tell you Dad got in deep with some loan sharks from a local gang to help support you and her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s mouth fell open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve both worked like dogs to pay off the debt, but they want us back under their thumb. If they mess me up, I can’t work, and Dad will be theirs again.” Bin crossed his arms over his chest, defensive. He’d never wanted Sua to know about this side of him. “This is why Mom tells me to stay away from you. If those gangsters find out about you and her -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you let them think I’m some kind of cheap fling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I don’t care about you, you won’t be worth hurting,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua stared at him. “Who </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> you? My brother would never -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, just hurt someone like that?” Bin tossed his head again. “Do you know </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>much your hagwon tuition costs? It’s a lot of cash to carry around. Guys like that will do just about anything to get it, but I don’t let them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua looked away for a moment. Then she looked up at him again. “Heejoo says you’re Minhyuk-sunbae’s boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sighed. “Minhyuk said she wouldn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She only told me. It’s true, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about it? Unless you wanted to date him? He said everyone at the hagwon knows he’s into boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does he know you’re...like this?” Sua asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. No one does. Dad, sort of. The kids at school know to leave me and my bike alone.” Bin dragged a hand through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know Mom has lied to me a lot to keep us apart,” Sua said. “And I guess she lied to you and Dad, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, she never lied to us. She didn’t want us around to distract you during performances, because you need to stay focused so you don’t injure yourself. I mean - she said you didn’t want us around anyway, and even if that wasn’t true at first, after a while it probably was.” Bin glanced at the warmly-lit cafe but he really didn’t want to go inside. He should get home and clean the blood off his helmet and check his hands for injuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom said you didn’t care. Not about me, or my dancing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin made a sound that wasn’t a laugh or a sob. “I think you and your dancing are the only things we’ve ever really cared about. Everything we’ve done -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua threw her hands up. “There were better ways! Ways that don’t involve gangsters.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure there were, but by the time I might have been old enough to discuss the issue with Dad, it was too late.” Bin swallowed down the lump in his throat. He was coming down off the adrenaline and felt himself starting to shake. “He made a choice. I had to live with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua said, “I missed you. I missed you for so long, and I wanted to hate you for never showing up to my recitals, but I always left a ticket for you, and then one day you actually used it and I was so happy. But you’re so unhappy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never wanted you to find out about any of this. I knew you’d feel upset and burdened.” Bin scrubbed at his face. “I wanted you to be able to dance happily and do well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua sighed. Finally, she said, “Does Dad know you like boys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I - I barely knew I like boys. Minhyuk is my first boyfriend.” Bin felt heat rise in his face. He’d said it aloud. Minhyuk was his boyfriend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua said, “You have to find some way out of this whole gangster thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand wave for </span>
  <em>
    <span>gangster thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> did nothing to encompass the years of sleepless nights and constantly looking over his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, we’re debt-free. Sometimes they like to mess with me. Once I’m done with school I can move and it’ll be fine. They’ll give up on me. I’m just one person, and not a very important one.” That was what he kept telling himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean - for Minhyuk. If he doesn’t know you’re like this, either you tell him or you get out,” Sua said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin eyed her. “I didn’t think you two were close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We aren’t exactly friends, but I respect him, and he’s always a good dance partner.” Sua took a deep breath. “Moon Bin, I say this with all seriousness. Park Minhyuk is the best dancer in our generation. There may be better ballet technicians, smoother hip-hop dancers, faster tap dancers, more graceful contemporary dancers. But someone who can do as well as he can at that many styles? There’s no one. He’s made it this far because he’s worked very, very hard and made a lot of sacrifices.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know he has,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua held his gaze. “He’s hardworking and intense, but he’s also quite sensitive. It’s what makes him so expressive when he dances. If you hurt him by lying to him about this mess you and Dad are in -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will to him. He cares about you. Everyone at school can see that something has changed. He’s dancing better - but also more recklessly. Bin-oppa, either tell him or stop things with him, because -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said it doesn’t matter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua rocked back on her heels. “Oppa -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter because he’s leaving soon. He auditioned for a fancy ballet school in America. You said it yourself - he’s the best dancer in this generation. There’s no way he failed the audition. This thing between us isn’t going to last, so I’m going to enjoy what I can get before it’s gone.” Bin swiped a hand over his face again. He refused to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing in his life was worth crying over. Nothing was worth crying over. Not Mom, not all those years missing Sua, not anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oppa,” Sua said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Irritation curled through Bin’s veins. He didn’t need anyone’s sympathy. He took a deep breath. “I should take you home. It’s late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded for her to put the helmet on, which she did, and they both climbed back on the bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to tell me the address,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua slapped his arm. “You don’t remember it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin took another deep, steadying breath. “I’ve never been to your house. We usually meet in public places, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Surely Mom told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She told me to stay away from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua made a sniffling noise. “Oppa. What’s wrong with our family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sighed. “I don’t know. Now come on. Tell me how to get you home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight, and she gave him directions to her house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Mom lived in a much nicer neighborhood than Bin and Dad, but it wasn’t particularly fancy. Bin guessed it was gang-free and safer, so he was glad. He dropped Sua off at the gate and made sure she made it in before he took off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad was asleep by the time Bin got home. He hid in the bathroom and tended to his bruised knuckles and cleaned the blood off his helmet before he washed up for the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slept without dreams. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>A boy called out, “Yah, Moon Bin, is that your boyfriend?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin straightened up, looked around. “Who said that?”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The next morning, Dad was awake when Bin got out of the shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came home late last night,” Dad said. He was sitting up, hair disheveled, still sleepy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Some minions hired by the gang followed me to Sua’s hagwon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad came fully awake. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were just following me. They didn’t know who she was - thought she was my girlfriend or something. She was with another girl, so they might not even know which girl was which. I let them think the wrong thing.” Bin fixed quick kimbap for both of them. He did it every morning, could probably do it in his sleep. He liked Minhyuk’s mother’s kimbap. Hers always had meat in it. Bin and Dad were vegetarians by default most days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got rid of them and made sure Sua made it home safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you were out late? Dammit, Bin! This is why you’re supposed to stay away from her!” Dad flung the comforter aside and pushed himself to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Bin said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ll stop going to the hagwon and stop seeing Sua?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll mail the money in from now on.” He’d thought about it for a while. It might be safer that way, to mail small payments in installments, and that way no one could roll him for the full amount all at once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad eyed him. “You’ll stop going to the hagwon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go one more time,” Bin said. “But then yes, I’ll stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad looked relieved. “Good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin eyed Dad. “Why is it, all this time, the gangsters come after me and not you? Is it because I’m younger, smaller, weaker? Surely you know the kids in the neighborhood are afraid of me. After all I’ve done, if they’re still willing to come after me, why aren’t they willing to come after you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad looked away. “I hoped you’d never think to ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I barely do well in school, but I’m not stupid.” Bin stared at his father for a long time, then looked away. “Mom used to yell at me about that fight all the time. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why are you like this? I didn’t raise you that way. Where did this come from? </span>
  </em>
  <span>I guess it came from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad buried his face in his hands. “Binnie, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Don’t be sorry, just fix everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad lifted his head. “How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s leave the city. We can keep working to help Mom and Sua. But it’ll be easier for everyone if we’re far away.” Bin swallowed down the lump in his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad nodded. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do it fast,” Bin said. “Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad nodded again. “I will, son.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin finished making the food, put Dad’s share in their tiny fridge, and set off for school. Usually speeding along on his bike helped him clear his head. Today his mind was noisier than ever. If Dad did things right, they’d move far away to some small town or village in the country, work hard, and possibly never see Sua and Mom again. Maybe Bin would see Sua on TV if she got famous. But he would just have to put his head down and do his best to live well with what little he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got to school as soon as the school library opened and he headed inside to his usual spot to get as much homework done as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All through classes, Bin did his best to pay attention and listen to the teachers’ instructions. On his lunch break, he did more homework, and then after school he did his cleaning chore and studied some more till the first delivery request came in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it was time to hit the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin headed down the hill to the bike rack to where he’d started parking his motorcycle. It was marginally safer inside the gates, and even though the PE teacher who did uniform checks on the way into school eyed him sidelong whenever he wheeled it through the gates, he wasn’t so oblivious to what went on in the neighborhood that he complained. Besides, he’d admired Bin’s bike more than once, and he understood Bin’s desire to keep it safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin grabbed his bike, kicked up the kickstand, and started wheeling it down toward the gates. The other students got out of his way, though some of the other students who rode bikes took advantage of the clear path to follow him down the hill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Outside the gate, Bin fished his helmet out of the seat compartment and went to put it on when a boy said,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned, startled. Minhyuk stood just outside the gate, wearing a school uniform and looking young and shy and sweet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin knew he ought to say hi, but the words that tumbled out of his mouth instead were, “Shouldn’t you be at hagwon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged and grinned and looked even sweeter, and Bin had the sudden urge to kiss him, but he could also sense his classmates watching, because while Moon Bin was tall and handsome and strong and tough, he also had no friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m skipping today,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Is that allowed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you going to ask me why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Bin’s head was spinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I passed my audition, and I want to celebrate,” Minhyuk said. “Mom and Dad and my brother will celebrate with me after work, but I wanted to celebrate with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk had passed his audition. Of course he had. Bin knew he would. That wasn’t a question at all. Except a tiny, terribly selfish part of Bin had been hoping that maybe, just maybe, the competition was incredibly fierce this year, that Minhyuk didn’t quite make it, maybe by something tragic like just a few points.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now it was a sure thing. Minhyuk was moving away to America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No matter. Like Bin had told Sua, it didn’t matter. He was going to enjoy what he had while he had it. So he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations. I knew you’d pass.” Then Bin hesitated. “But I have to work today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Minhyuk said. “But you always help me clean at the hagwon, so - let me ride with you today. I’ll be your helper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin considered. If he missed one day of work, what would it matter? It was just one day. He’d never get a day like this again. And he had some emergency money set aside in case he and Dad were going to be short on bills for whatever reason. One day’s work wouldn’t drain his entire emergency fund.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have one delivery I promised to make, but I can take the rest of the afternoon off,” Bin said. That was the good part about being an independent contractor. He usually got stuck with the hard or complicated or last-minute jobs no one else wanted, but he also had flexibility, which he usually took advantage of for big school assignments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Minhyuk’s face lit up reminded Bin of sunlight breaking through clouds after a massive thunderstorm. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He handed Minhyuk the helmet. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk grinned and pulled it on. He leaned in and let Bin help him with the strap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy called out, “Yah, Moon Bin, is that your boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin straightened up, looked around. “Who said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several boys from his grade stood just outside the school gate, staring at him and laughing behind their hands. One of the boys crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin, gaze challenging. He was one of the taller, stronger boys in their grade, had hit his growth spurt before Bin, but he tended to bully smaller boys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just curious,” the boy said, his tone casual but his gaze mocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin reached out, flipped up the visor on the helmet. Then he leaned in and angled his face very carefully and kissed a wide-eyed Minhyuk on the tip of his nose, short and sweet. When he straightened back up, all of the boys were staring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend. You got a problem with that?” Too late he realized that Minhyuk might not want to announce that kind of thing in public like this, but Minhyuk reached out and slipped his hand into Bin’s, lacing their fingers together, and squeezed gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn,” the boy said. “No wonder you never notice when girls try to flirt with you.” He laughed, startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I notice,” Bin said. “I just don’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you’re so tough?” another boy asked. “Compensating for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boys snickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Minhyuk who unbuckled the helmet and tugged it off, tossed his head. “What, you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> man enough to handle me?” He set the helmet on the bike seat and shook out his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the boys went wide-eyed and whispered something to the others, who all also went wide-eyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The one boy bowed and said, “Sunbae, I didn’t recognize you, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t recognize the boy. Was he one of the students at the dance hagwon? Oh no. Would he tell everyone else? Did he recognize Bin as Sua’s brother?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Minhyuk said, “I won’t tell Shin-sabumnim how you behaved today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sabumnim?” Bin asked in a low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The instructor at our taekwondo hagwon has a boyfriend,” Minhyuk answered in an equally low voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>taekwondo?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bin hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fourth degree black belt, provincial competitor eight years running, champion three,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. “But - you’d risk injury and it would affect your dancing -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you I stick to the things I train in.” Minhyuk grinned at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin thought he understood now why Minhyuk had just leaped on him when he’d mentioned fixing up his motorbike. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boys hurried away, giving them a wide berth as they skittered down the sidewalk, the one boy bowing and apologizing to Minhyuk several times more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Let me get this one delivery done, and then - yeah. Let’s go celebrate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and put the helmet back on, and he climbed onto the bike behind Bin, snuggled, closed, and off they went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The delivery was simple: pick up an envelope of documents at a law office, drop it off at another law office; over and done in half an hour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now what?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“First things first, you need a helmet of your own,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Makes sense, if I’m going to be riding with you often.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t know how many more times they’d get to ride together like this. He hadn’t asked when Minhyuk would be leaving, and Minhyuk hadn’t offered the information. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin frequented several shops for bike supplies, and he headed to the nearest one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t just pick the cheapest one because you’re worried about me,” he said, leading Minhyuk inside. “Pick one that’s comfortable. This is about your safety.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get one that matches yours - that way I know it’s safe.” Minhyuk scanned the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin-ah, how’s your bike?” Hyungwon, the assistant manager, wagged a crescent wrench in greeting from behind the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just fine.” Bin smiled at him. Hyungwon was kind and had shown him a few tricks for fixing up his bike over the years, would sometimes sneak him a discount if he knew things for Bin were tight. “Just buying a helmet for -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minhyuk-ah.” Hyungwon straightened up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned, and surprise lit in his eyes. “Hyung! Hello!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here with this punk?” Hyungwon lifted his chin at Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin knew Hyungwon meant it as a joke, but his pulse jumped a little. If Minhyuk knew how much of a punk Bin really was, it would be over between them in a heartbeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a helmet if I’m going to ride with him on his bike,” Minhyuk said. He smiled and bowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two know each other?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “Hyungwon-hyung is Shin-sabumnim’s boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Minhyuk is my Hoseokie’s star pupil.” Hyungwon smiled at Minhyuk, then arched an eyebrow at Bin. “How do you two know each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Binnie is my boyfriend.” Minhyuk ducked his head and blushed a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyungwon’s expression softened. “I see. Well, pick a helmet, and I’ll throw in a couple of stickers for free, hm?” He gestured to the little wire rack of bumper stickers on the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stickers?” Minhyuk echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a bad idea,” Bin said. “So you can tell your helmet apart from mine, if you get the same kind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyungwon ducked into the back and came back with the helmet they wanted. Bin paid for it, and Minhyuk picked a couple of stickers, one of a moon, and one of what looked like a comet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why a comet?” Bin asked as Minhyuk put the sticker on the helmet, brow furrowed in concentration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rock,” he said. “For Rocky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why a moon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because your name in English is </span>
  <em>
    <span>dal kong.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Minhyuk smoothed the sticker down carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moon bean?” Bin echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyungwon said it in English, and Minhyuk was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realize you were so good at English,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged. “I’m really not that good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you did taekwondo either,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My parents wanted me to have a backup in case dance didn’t work out,” Minhyuk said. “And for me to be able to socialize with boys.” He patted his new helmet fondly. “Thanks, hyung. It was good to see you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hyungwon nodded. “You too. Take care of each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and swallowed hard. He was the last person to be able to take care of Minhyuk. Minhyuk was right - he could handle himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now wasn’t the time to brood. Now was the time to enjoy. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“It’s for the best, Bin-ah.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin flinched, but Dad’s hand on his shoulder was gentle.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin said, “I know.”</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Minhyuk and Bin headed back out to the street where Bin’s bike was parked. They helped each other with their helmets, and then it was time to have some fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Minhyuk asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We,” Bin said, “are going to do a couple’s photo shoot. But we are also going to get drinks at a cafe. And get you some flowers. That’s what dancers get, right? Flowers. A really big bouquet, not just a single flower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and smiled, and Bin hoped he’d be able to remember that smile forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t think twice about it. Once he and Minhyuk were roaring down the road, he headed for the flower shop near the dance hagwon. When they turned down the street toward the hagwon, Minhyuk hissed in his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you trying to get me into trouble?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to get you flowers,” Bin said. He parked near the flower shop, and they hopped off the bike, giggling and ducking their heads and probably looking like they were up to no good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The florist at the counter was the same one who’d helped Bin the last time he was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minhyuk-ssi, here for flowers for one of your instructors?” Myungjun smiled and tied a bow around a bouquet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here to buy him flowers because he passed his audition for a very fancy ballet school in America,” Bin said, reaching for his wallet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun’s smile brightened. “Congratulations, Minhyuk-ssi! I know you work very hard.” He set the bouquet in the cooler behind the counter and turned to Bin. “What would you like the bouquet to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Say?” Bin echoed. “Oh. Like daffodils mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m proud of you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Um...how about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ve succeeded</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>I care about you very much?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He darted a glance at Minhyuk, but he had wandered down one of the aisles and was looking at a display of some kind of old fashioned glass chemistry set. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun nodded. “Yellow poppies and red roses. Perfect. Coming right up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin paid and only winced internally at the cost a little bit - he’d have to forego lunch for a week but he’d done that before and for longer - and then watched Myungjun work, fascinated by his quick, dexterous, but pretty and delicate little hands. Myungjun presented the bouquet to him with a flourish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin bowed and thanked him, then turned and scanned the aisles for Minhyuk.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said, “ready to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk poked his head out from behind some shelves, and his eyes lit up when he saw the flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin held them out, but Minhyuk didn’t take them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” He dug his phone out of his pocket. “Let me take a picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and maintained his pose, smiled, and Minhyuk snapped several pictures. Then he handed Bin his phone and Bin took pictures of him holding the flowers. It was a very sweet Myungjun who offered to take pictures of the two of them together - he was a better photographer than both of them - and then they set off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a surprisingly giggly Minhyuk who proposed that they have a congratulatory photo shoot underneath the hagwon sign, so they went and posed for pictures individually and together, trying to look cool and cute but also not linger so long they got caught. When the front door opened, they bolted back to Bin’s bike, laughing all the while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to a park and took more photos there, posing under trees and laying on the grass. At the nearby playground, they pushed each other on the swings and spun on the merry-go-round. When they were worn out from playing, they headed to a nearby cafe for drinks to refresh themselves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t forget to send the pictures to me,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. He scooted close to Bin and showed him the pictures on his much nicer phone, which was very nice on account of him needing to be able to record videos of himself or instructors practicing choreography.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way, earlier, with those boys at my school, I didn’t mean to just out you like that,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m already out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I remember you said you don’t go around in ballet gear after class because even though you can stand up for yourself against bullies, you don’t want to invite bullying either.” Bin ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk looked at him. “You remember that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I remember everything you’ve told me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then remember, I can handle myself,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin smiled. “All right.” He finished his iced americano. “Where to next? We still have some light for photos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk considered. “Is Namsan tower a cliché?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but - I have a better idea. Come on.” Bin made sure he had Minhyuk’s bouquet in hand - it had stood up remarkably well to all their riding around on the bike - and Minhyuk finished his iced tea before they hit the road again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” Minhyuk shouted over the wind as they sped toward downtown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll see!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had been to the National Theater many times to deliver things, usually paperwork. Minhyuk’s expression was awed when he took off his helmet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been here to see shows,” he said. “I always dreamed of performing here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One day you will,” Bin said, even though that probably wasn’t true - Minhyuk was destined for bigger stages in America and Europe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk stood at the bottom of the steps, gazing up at the building, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strike a pose,” Bin said. He had Minhyuk’s phone in his pocket, and he fished it out so he could take pictures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and considered, then turned and glided into a beautiful ballet extension, arms and legs long and graceful. Bin snapped away while Minhyuk went through a series of poses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Park Minhyuk truly was beautiful. Bin had never deserved someone like him. But today had been wonderful: warm sunlight, flowers and smiles and fresh air, sweet drinks and laughter and being carefree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wanted to hold onto these moments forever, but he knew that was impossible. At least after he’d have the pictures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Minhyuk was done posing, he insisted Bin pose with his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My bike?” Bin echoed, but he handed over Minhyuk’s phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. You fixed it up yourself. You should be proud. Also you and your bike are sexy - all that leather.” Minhyuk grinned cheekily when Bin spluttered and blushed. “Besides, I did ballet poses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My bike is not like ballet poses,” Bin protested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way dancing is </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Minhyuk said. “You built it up with your own hands, and it gives you speed and freedom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sobered at the solemnity in Minhyuk’s gaze, and he nodded and moved to pose with his bike. Minhyuk took far too many pictures in Bin’s opinion, but it was his phone. Whatever made him happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By then the sun was starting to set, and they wouldn’t have enough light for more pictures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What now?” Bin asked. “How do you want to celebrate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk considered. “Let’s get mini cakes. I’m probably going to eat a lot when I celebrate with my family, but we should still have cake, right? To celebrate us, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. Cake sounds delicious.” Bin smiled, and they were back on his bike once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t have passengers often. Having Minhyuk snuggled against him, warm and strong but trusting, was an amazing feeling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went to a bakery Bin had done deliveries for. He knew their pastries were excellent and were also packed for travel really well, so they ordered two little cakes with different flavors, plus some candles, and then it was back on the bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wasn’t even thinking when he drove back to his place, but when he finally cut the engine and looked around, he was on the sidewalk below his apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh hell. What was he thinking?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only Minhyuk said, “Is this where you live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Our apartment is on the roof.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk hopped off the bike, juggling the cakes and his helmet expertly. “Good idea. I don’t carry a lighter, and in my uniform they’d never let me buy one at a convenience store. You have matches or something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have lighters,” Bin said, because sometimes Dad let the power bill slide and they could get by on candles for a few days till money came in. Living paycheck to paycheck meant that sometimes they were short a few days once in a while, because payday didn’t always coincide properly with bill days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk didn’t seem at all put off by the gray, dingy atmosphere of Bin’s entire neighborhood, just waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs while Bin locked up his bike. Then Bin led him up the stairs and across the roof, hoping Minhyuk wouldn’t look too closely at the laundry drying on the lines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their apartment was so old that it didn’t have an electric lock and door code, just an old-fashioned lock and key system. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk removed his shoes at the door and waited while Bin found him some slippers - Bin couldn’t remember the last time anyone had visited him or Dad - and then he carried the little cakes into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had never cared much that his and Dad’s apartment was barren of furniture. All they had was the low table they ate at and that Bin sometimes studied at if he was unable to get his work done at school for whatever reason. The futons were rolled up and stored in the closet with the comforters and pillows. Bin and Dad lived on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a couple of boxes they used as smaller tables, but they kept all their clothes in duffel bags because they were always ready to run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tore through the kitchen drawers and found a lighter and some forks. “Here, why don’t you get the cakes ready, and I’ll make us somewhere comfortable to sit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and set to placing candles carefully in the tops of the cakes, lighting the wicks. Bin unfurled his futon and laid it on the ground, then piled his comforter and pillow on top of it so they wouldn’t be stuck with the hard floor even though it wasn’t like the two of them weren’t used to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In retrospect, Bin’s apartment looked more welcoming than the cramped storeroom where Minhyuk slept at the dance hagwon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk carried both cakes over to Bin, knelt beside the futon, and pushed Bin’s toward him. Bin had ordered chocolate with strawberries on top, where Minhyuk’s was red velvet with cream frosting and cherries on top. He’d set two candles in the top of each.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why two?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because,” Minhyuk said, pointing to one candle, then the other, “we’re celebrating me passing my audition, and we’re celebrating us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know how many days it’s been,” Bin admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shrugged and smiled. “It doesn’t matter how many days, because they’ve been days with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked so happy. Bin couldn’t remember the last time he’d made anyone happy like that. They took pictures with their cakes individually, then together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right. Well - should we sing to each other?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded, and they sang to each other, congratulations to Minhyukie and Bin-hyung, and then they blew out their candles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin closed his eyes and wished. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let Minhyuk be happy always, even without me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When he opened his eyes, Minhyuk was smiling at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you wish for?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “For you to always be happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy when I’m with you.” Minhyuk tilted his head and looked unbearably sweet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin went to grab a knife so they could cut their cakes, and then he offered Minhyuk the first piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a little too distracted for his own good by the way Minhyuk’s eyes slid closed and he licked his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm. Delicious. Try some of mine.” Minhyuk offered Bin a bite, and Bin leaned in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yours is delicious too. You’ll like it.” Bin smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took pictures of each other eating their cakes, and tried to pose for pictures of themselves feeding each other pieces of cake too, which mostly resulted in getting cake crumbs on the floor, but it would be easy to clean up later, and they giggled and apologized and finished wolfing down the cakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were full, Bin put the forks in the sink, dusted up the mess, and they sprawled out on his futon, staring up at the water-stained ceiling, close enough to feel each other’s warmth but not quite touching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew you’d pass your audition,” Bin said. “There was no way you wouldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The application process is competitive, and dancers from all over the world apply. I was nervous,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin swallowed hard. “So, when do you leave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I should actually go,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned to look at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned his head, looked back at Bin. “Should I go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sat up. “What? How is that even a question? You worked so hard to pass the audition, and it’s the school that will allow you to be the dancer you want to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sat up, turned to face Bin. He reached out, curled his fingers tentatively around Bin’s wrist. “Do you want me to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This shouldn’t be up to me, or even be </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” Bin reversed Minhyuk’s grip on his wrist, held Minhyuk’s hand tightly, willing him to understand. “I’m just one stupid punk who rides a motorcycle who you thought was hot one time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s gaze darkened. “Don’t say that about yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is your dream, your future, the rest of your life. I’m just - a phase.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk reversed Bin’s grip on his wrist and gripped his hand tightly. “Hyung, don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go,” Bin said. “Look at my life here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you come back.” He looked around at his mostly-empty apartment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if I don’t come back?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you saying? Your family is here. Unless they’ll be moving to America with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, but if I join a company overseas -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s years away, isn’t it? When you’re done with your training, you’ll be able to join any company you want. And really fancy companies tour the world, right? Either way, I’ll still be here.” Bin tried to smile, but judging by the way Minhyuk bit his lip and his eyes turned suspiciously bright, he failed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not fair to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can decide what’s fair for me,” Bin said. “And it’s not like I’ll be doing nothing. I’ll be a senior next year. I have things to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t say that he had a big future or big plans or dreams, because he wasn’t that good a liar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk glanced down, then peered at Bin through his lashes. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Park Minhyuk, you are an amazing dancer, and I wouldn’t dream of standing in your way of becoming the best dancer in the world,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the whole world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes the whole world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe the whole of Korea,” Minhyuk offered, and Bin laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like it. You’ve got swag. So much swag for a ballet dancer. Rocky swag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rocky swag,” Minhyuk echoed. “I like it.” He smiled, slow and understated and sweet, and Bin was suddenly, irrevocably in love with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “I don’t know, can you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin rolled his eyes and leaned in closer. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“May</span>
  </em>
  <span> I kiss you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was still holding Bin’s hand, and he tugged. “Yes. You should. Many times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin closed his eyes and closed the distance between them. After eating all that cake, their kisses had chocolate undertones, but Bin thought Minhyuk himself was warmer, sweeter, more perfect than the best cake in the world. They sat there, knees bumping, hands tentatively brushing over clothes and skin, mouths meeting over and over again. It was Minhyuk who flopped onto his back, breathing hard, when they had to catch their breath. It was easy for Bin to lay beside him, gazing at him, memorizing the line of his jaw and his pretty cheekbones and his cute nose and the sweep of his lashes against his cheek when he blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk turned to look at him, smiling faintly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Why did you talk to me? For months you never said anything to me, and then -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua-ssi always talked about how handsome her older brother was. I figured that was who you were, because besides her father, who else would deliver her tuition payments? So I got you to uncover your face to see if she was exaggerating.” The corner of Minhyuk’s mouth turned up in amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>baited</span>
  </em>
  <span> me just to see if I was as good-looking as my sister said?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She wasn’t lying,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re just here because I’m hot.” Bin pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kissed you because you’re hot. I’m with you because I like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like you too,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Minhyuk’s smile turn brilliant, and Bin leaned in and kissed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They could have lain there forever, facing each other, kissing soft and slow and sweet, but then Minhyuk put his hand on Bin’s hip and his thumb brushed Bin’s bare hip just below the hem of shirt, and their kiss turned hot, and then Bin was on top of Minhyuk, trying to prop himself up with one knee and one hand but losing his mind as Minhyuk pressed a series of kisses down his neck and along his collarbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk reached up and wound his arms around Bin’s neck, tugging Bin down on top of him. He gazed right into Bin’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember, I can handle myself. And you, too.” And he slid his hands up the back of Bin’s shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shivered and gasped, heat licking up his spine as Minhyuk stroked his skin, mouthing along his jaw and at the corner of his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk’s teeth grazed the side of Bin’s neck, he whimpered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we doing?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “Whatever you want.” He slung one leg up over Bin’s hip, and Bin remembered that Minhyuk was a dancer and incredibly flexible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Bin panted, as Minhyuk nosed at Bin’s ear, “I don’t know what I want. What - what kinds of things can I want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled against Bin’s skin. “Let’s find out together.” He reached up and started loosening his own tie, and Bin didn’t think twice about reaching out to unbutton his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The front door banged open, and a man grumbled and toed off his shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin and Minhyuk froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad said, “What </span>
  <em>
    <span>the hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> is going on here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin and Minhyuk scrambled apart. Bin’s heart was roaring in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk had the sense to tug his shirt closed, and he bowed. “Hello.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moon Bin.” Dad’s voice cracked like a whip. “Why aren’t you at work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t have a good answer. An even worse response was, “Why aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I turned in my notice. Found a nice, better-paying job out in the country. And not a moment too soon, it seems.” Dad stared at Bin, then Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had never seen Dad so angry before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So this is why you’ve been staying out late at night? No wonder you said you didn’t have a some-girl. You have a some-</span>
  <em>
    <span>boy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Dad’s lip curled in disgust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my boyfriend,” Bin protested, which was the entirely wrong thing to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Dad snapped. To Minhyuk he said, “You should leave. Now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded and bowed, apologized, gave Dad a wide berth as he scrambled for the door and put his shoes on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get home safe,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “I - I’ll text you.” He bowed to Dad again. “I’m sorry. I’ll be going now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad snarled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk ducked out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hoped he’d be able to figure out how to get home from here. The nearest bus stop was a bit of a walk, and this wasn’t a nice neighborhood, and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even see the slap coming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One moment he was watching Minhyuk dash across the roof, the next his face was burning and his jaw was throbbing and his vision was sparking and his ears were ringing with the sound of his father’s hand on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was frozen on his knees, unable to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still wasn’t thinking when he surged to his feet and planted a fist in his father’s solar plexus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad went down, gasping for breath like a fish out of water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stood over him, ears still ringing, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>teeth</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurting, and said, “This better be the last time we hit each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned away and found his jacket, fished the phone out of his pocket, sent Minhyuk a message.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Are you okay? I’m so sorry. He usually doesn’t come home till much later.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The response was immediate. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m fine. I’m on the main road and I see the bus stop. Are you okay?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s jaw ached. He’d probably look like a disaster tomorrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m fine. Text when you get home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad groaned and heaved himself to his feet. “Pack your bags. We leave for the countryside tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin spun. “But - what about school and my job and -?” Sua and Minhyuk?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call your school and your boss and get things taken care of.” Dad leaned against the kitchen counter, one arm curled protectively around his middle. He stared at Bin, his gaze opaque. “I’m the parent, after all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad pointed to the laundry basket in the corner that was piled high with clean but wrinkled clothes. “So pack it up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were leaving, just like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. Bin should be grateful. Dad had done what Bin asked, got a better job and a way for them to get away from this neighborhood and the gang and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bin’s time with Minhyuk had always been finite. The end of them was inevitable. If not Minhyuk moving to America to become the best dancer South Korea had ever seen, then Bin finally getting caught off-guard by the gang, or their parents finding out and putting a stop to it, or Minhyuk finally realizing what kind of person Bin really was and doing what everyone else always did: leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Bin nodded and fetched the basket from the corner and brought it over to the futon and he sat down and started folding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s for the best, Bin-ah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin flinched, but Dad’s hand on his shoulder was gentle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he didn’t say anything for the rest of the night, while they packed their meager possessions into the duffel bags and boxes. They’d leave the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished packing far too soon, and to celebrate their change in fortune, Dad splurged and ordered takeout, marinated grilled beef and kimchi fried rice and tteokbokki and dessert. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t taste any of it. He just kept an eye on his phone, responded when Minhyuk texted to let him know he made it home safely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent smilies and thank yous when Minhyuk started to send the pictures they’d taken earlier. The pictures were from another lifetime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How would Bin explain to Minhyuk and Sua that he was leaving tomorrow? Minhyuk had heard about Dad’s new job, but he couldn’t have imagined Bin would be leaving so soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at the picture of the two of them posing with their cakes and almost smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today had been, in some way, the perfect goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d figure out how to tell them in the morning. Sua would understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin suspected Minhyuk would, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for today Bin had had enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d tell them tomorrow.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Minhyuk pulled back. “I love you. Go.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin looked into Minhyuk’s eyes one last time, tried to memorize his face.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Minhyuk pushed him. “Go!”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin ran for his bike. </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Bin woke the next day, his phone was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad said Bin didn’t need it anymore, and besides, he could get a nicer one once the new paychecks started rolling in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “It has Sua’s number on it.” If he could get in touch with Sua, she could pass a message on to Minhyuk for him. Dad didn’t know that. Surely he’d let Bin talk to Sua.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dad said, “Sua knows we’re moving. Her mother told her. Besides, you can talk to Sua on my phone sometimes. Where I can supervise you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin forced himself to take several deep breaths. “Would you be like this if I’d been with a girl?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t with a girl.” Dad picked up several of the duffel bags. “Come on. The moving truck is here. We need to get your bike loaded up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dammit. Bin should have known, should have thought, should have written at least Sua’s number down somewhere. He’d figure something out later. He grabbed a box and a bag and followed Dad down the stairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moving truck driver looked unimpressed at how little they had but made no comment. Dad slept in the back seat of the truck cab, leaving Bin up front in the passenger seat to stare out the window as the city passed him by and try not to cry. He had nothing to distract him - no books, no music, no webtoons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing, he reminded himself, was worth crying over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad had warned the driver to keep an eye on Bin, so when they stopped for fuel and food at a rest stop they never let him out of their sight, except in the bathroom, and even then when he paused to splash cold water on his face to force back the tears Dad poked his head back into the bathroom and yelled at him to hurry up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad dozed in the back some more, and Bin made plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, rural town was more likely to have pay phones. Bin could go to the school library and look up the dance hagwon on the internet, find the phone number, and call. In the evenings Minhyuk was the only one there. Bin could get his number that way. Or maybe someone on the staff could give it to him? If not Minhyuk’s number, maybe Sua’s number. Or Bin could just leave a message with his new number or his school email address for either Sua or Minhyuk to contact him, so he could explain and apologize and ask Minhyuk to email him the pictures they’d taken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was heading to America soon anyway, so Bin leaving like this wouldn’t be too awful, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only the school was closed for the summer break, and the public library was small and understaffed and barely equipped, and Bin couldn’t wait for an entire month to reach out to Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he planned some more. He helped Dad move into their new apartment, which was much nicer than their old one, in the same building as some of Dad’s new coworkers. Some big company was building a new, big hospital in the area, and Dad had been hired as part of the construction crew. Bin had the option of working with Dad as well. It would be better pay than as a courier - and Dad could keep a close eye on him when he wasn’t in school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two days after they were all moved in, Dad did his first day on the job. It was long and hard in the heat of the summer, and he was exhausted when he got home. Bin made him a nice big meal, and even gave him a nice shoulder rub, and Dad fell asleep quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was out the door and down the stairs and wheeling his bike to the end of the road as soon as Dad started to snore. He had money, and he knew how to get to Sua’s house. Bin’s bike was his, was registered in his name on account of Dad being too busy to go to the city office with Bin the day it was registered, so Dad couldn’t report the bike stolen. He could report Bin as a runaway, but he was sleeping pretty deeply, and he would sleep in tomorrow because he had the day off, and by the time he woke and realized what was going on, Bin would be back in Seoul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin rode all night, only stopping for fuel and bathroom breaks and a bit of food. He had enough cash on him to make the journey to Seoul and back, plus a bit extra.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made it to Seoul just as the sun was rising, and he headed for Sua’s apartment. The neighborhood was still asleep, and he parked his bike at the end of the street, then went up to the gate and peered at the buzzer system. According to the name plates by the buzzer buttons, Mom and Sua lived on the second floor. Bin backed away from the gate and craned his neck, peering at the windows on the second floor. Which window was Sua’s? He circled the building and hoped he’d be able to talk to Sua soon before someone spotted him and called the cops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, the room with the old pair of ballet shoes hanging from the window - that had to be Sua’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin cast about for some pebbles. Even though he knew dramas weren’t accurate to real life, he hoped they weren’t totally wrong about everything. He found some bits of gravel and scooped them up, stepped back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wound up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Threw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Success.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one hit the window with an audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>plink!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That one was louder, and he winced automatically, in case someone else - like Mom - heard and noticed him instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was still no response, so he threw again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still no response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin threw again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The curtains moved, and the ballet shoes shifted, and then the window opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah! Yoon Sanha!” Sua poked her head out, furious. She might have looked terrifying but she was wearing some kind of furry headband like girls wore for their nightly skin care, and she was only half awake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yoon Sanha - not Minhyuk’s fellow hip-hop dancer Sanha? Why would you think I was him?” Bin demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s eyes went wide. “Oppa! Mom said -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sh! Do you want Mom to hear you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, right. I’ll come down.” Sua vanished back inside and closed the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin circled around to the front of the building. Throwing pebbles had actually worked. He couldn’t believe it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moments later, the front door opened, and Sua, wearing a fuzzy bathrobe and matching pink slippers, came hurrying to the gate. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and grabbed Bin in a fierce hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged her back. The panic that had been clawing at the edges of his mind faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mom said you and Dad were moving to the country and I’d never see you again. I called you and Minhyuk said he called you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad took my phone. I don’t have your number or Minhyuk’s memorized.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua held him tighter. “I hate our family.” Then she stepped back. “How did you get here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad took my phone but not my bike. Listen, I need your number and email address - and Minhyuk’s if you have them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua nodded. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere. I’m so glad you’re all right. Minhyuk said - he said Dad caught the two of you together and he was really mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. He’d never tell Sua that Dad had hit him - or that he’d hit back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re okay. Don’t go anywhere.” Sua turned and hurried back into the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin paced back and forth on the sidewalk, keeping a wary eye out for any neighbors getting suspicious of him or strangers getting too close to his bike. But then he heard the pitter-patter of Sua’s slippers, and he hurried back to the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She handed him a pink piece of paper with two numbers and two email addresses written on it - and an actual address.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have Minhyuk’s home address?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua nodded. “Yeah. When we traded contact information after we got paired up for our first recital duet, we shared everything, just in case.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin hugged her tightly and kissed her on the cheek. “You’re the best. Thank you. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, oppa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, the town we’re in has a crappy library, and school is on summer break, so I can’t check my email often. Dad said he’d get me a new phone, but after this he probably won’t, so until school is back in I might be out of reach, unless I can earn money for a phone sooner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua nodded against his neck. “Okay. I’m sorry it had to be this way, oppa.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me. Keep dancing. You’re going to be famous, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua pulled back. “All right. I promise to work hard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin managed a smile for her. “I’ll work hard, too. For you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For you, too,” Sua said. “Minhyuk says you’re some kind of engineering genius. You could go to university -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua? Sua! Where are you? If your fool brother kidnapped you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s eyes went wide. “Run!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Mom was at the gate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” she shrieked. “Your father called me. Stay away from my daughter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “She’s my sister!” But he headed for his bike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom brandished her phone. “I’m calling your father and then calling the police!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oppa, run!” Sua shouted again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was on his bike and roaring away before he could find out whether Mom was really calling the police. He paused in an alley several blocks away, and he pulled the folded paper out of his pocket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk lived almost an hour from the dance hagwon. No wonder he slept there sometimes. He’d most likely be at home on a Sunday, though. Bin pulled on his helmet, gunned the engine, and took off. There was no guarantee Sua would hold out against Mom for long if Mom asked where Bin was going, so he didn’t have much time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found the apartment easily enough. It was in a neighborhood about as nice as Sua’s. Bin parked his bike at the gate and went to check the buzzer system, see which floor Minhyuk’s family lived on. Much to his dismay, three of the four apartments were inhabited by a family with the last name Park, and Bin had no idea what Minhyuk’s father’s name was. He peered through the gate and saw a large garden with a lush green lawn and pretty flowers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy who looked to be about eleven or twelve came dashing around the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, come on! You have to show me how it’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk appeared a moment later, though moving at a more sedate pace. “Minseokie, slow down. We have all day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to America in a week. Then I’ll have no days.” Minseok pouted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s chest tightened. A week. Minhyuk was leaving in a week. He called out,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minhyukie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Minseok who turned. “Who said that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was beside him in an instant, expression wary. “Who’s there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me, Bin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s eyes went wide. He tore open the front gate. “Hyung! What happened? You weren’t answering my texts or calls and Sua said you weren’t answering her either, that you left the day after your father -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He took my phone after I went to bed that night, and I haven’t memorized your number or hers,” Bin said. “I didn’t know your email address or anything either, and I didn’t want you to think -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pulled him into a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kissed him back. The kiss was fast and messy, a jumble of emotions building between them, relief and fear and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew. Kissing is gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin pulled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minseok was standing right beside them, arms crossed, eyeing Bin. “You’re not handsome enough for my brother. He deserves someone like Rain or Park Seojoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah,” Minhyuk said lightly. “He’s exactly as handsome as I like. Now give us a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, so you can kiss more? No. You promised to play with me all I wanted before you left.” Minseok pouted some more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk swatted at him. “Just a minute, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minseok took three steps back, planted himself firmly, and started to count. Loudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re leaving in a week?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Minhyuk nodded. “I wanted to tell you, but -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this is probably my last chance to see you before you go. I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Police sirens wailed in the distance. Bin swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Minhyuk’s eyes went wide. “What’s going on? Are those for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess my dad reported me as a runaway? I had to stop by Sua’s before I could find you, and Mom said she’d call the cops on me. Maybe she told them I tried to kidnap her. Who knows. That doesn’t matter. What matters is I love you, okay? I’ll be here for you no matter what. So go to America with no regrets.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love me?” Minhyuk echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart was pounding. He nodded. “You don’t have to say it back, I just -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minseok said, louder, “Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me. Dance hard.” Bin pulled Minhyuk in for another kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fifty-three! Fifty-four!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sirens were getting louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pulled back. “I love you. Go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin looked into Minhyuk’s eyes one last time, tried to memorize his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk pushed him. “Go!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin ran for his bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was speeding away from Minhyuk’s house as police cars went speeding toward it. He hoped Minhyuk’s brother wouldn’t be too scared, that his parents wouldn’t be too upset if the police knocked on their door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had almost made it all the way out of Minhyuk’s neighborhood when a police car appeared behind him, lights flashing, sirens wailing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since Bin had no intention of endangering himself or others by leading the cops on a high speed chase through a residential area, he pulled over obediently. He could see two officers approaching in his side mirrors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take off your helmet,” one of them snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin obeyed slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, he’s just a kid,” the other one said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I’m reaching into my pocket for my wallet so I can show you my driver’s license, all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Slowly!” the first cop said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other cop was on his radio, reporting in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin surrendered his driver’s license and motorcycle registration calmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moon Bin, seventeen. Are you aware this motorcycle is stolen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did my mother tell you that? She’s wrong. As you can see, it’s registered under my name.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It is,” the officer admitted, reading the registration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I under arrest?” Bin asked. He kept his tone calm and polite, but he was annoyed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the officer said. “For - for the attempted kidnapping of Moon Sua -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My sister who’s safe at home with my mother?” Bin raised his eyebrows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other officer nodded his confirmation when his partner looked to him questioningly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And also you’re a runaway,” the officer finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I was on my way home when you pulled me over,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer sighed. “Well, next time just tell your father where you’re going, all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He never really cared before, but sure, officer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer grumbled something under his breath that sounded like </span>
  <em>
    <span>family drama</span>
  </em>
  <span> but handed back Bin’s ID and bike registration. “Don’t speed,” he said, and returned to his patrol car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, officer,” Bin called after him, and tugged on his helmet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time to make the long drive to the place Bin was supposed to call home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Everything was going so well. Bin was living the life he’d never dared to dream of having.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And then Minhyuk stopped replying to his emails. </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As predicted, Dad was furious, and for once he and Mom were in agreement about something, and it was that Bin should be monitored. Closely. For the entire summer before school started, Bin worked with Dad at the construction site. As he was less experienced he didn’t get paid nearly as much and did a lot of the dirty work and grunt work, but it was still better than he’d made as a courier in the city, so he didn’t complain. Dad took the keys to his bike so he couldn’t go riding off to Seoul whenever he wanted, which sparked bitter argument between them, because Bin had bought the bike with his own money and fixed it up himself and it was registered in his name and he paid the insurance on it, but Dad put his foot down.</p><p>He was the parent.</p><p>Bin wasn’t sure if he was ready to accept that, after all these years of Dad being only half-present.</p><p>But once a week, Dad drove Bin to the library - Dad had earned enough money to buy a cheap little car - and stood over his shoulder while he composed an email to Sua. Dad hadn’t told Mom about catching Bin with a boy, and Mom hadn’t told Dad that the other friend Bin had gone to see in the city was another student at Sua’s dance hagwon, so Dad didn’t know that Bin’s boyfriend was also a dancer, and he didn’t realize what Bin was doing when he wrote to Sua inquiring after the welfare of <em> the best dancer in our generation. </em> Dad also didn’t know what Sua meant, when she transmitted surprisingly nice messages to <em> the worst dancer in our generation. </em></p><p>This new life was - strange. Bin felt cut off from the entire world. From the buzz of the city. From everything. He never saw kids his own age, because they were all out and seeing the world and doing fun things for the summer. He just worked beside his father, and he ate, and he slept. Since he had no phone, he couldn’t listen to music or read webtoons, so he’d borrow books from the cramped, musty library after his weekly visit to send an email to his sister. But after four weeks of stellar behavior, Dad gave Bin his bike back so he could get to school and work on his own.</p><p>And Bin had plans. Big plans. He would continue to be on his best behavior, because if he studied hard, if he worked hard, he could get into a university in Seoul, and he’d have a better chance of seeing Minhyuk when he came back to Korea for school breaks. And he could see Sua.</p><p>That first day of school was surreal. Bin had a brand new uniform, and because Dad had ordered it immediately after they’d arrived in the small town, he had a name plate too, didn’t have to go around constantly introducing himself like in times past, when he’d had to constantly move schools on account of Dad job-hopping because he wasn’t very good at being sober yet. The other students were polite to him, weren’t afraid of him, because they didn’t know his reputation. They thought he was cool instead of scary, because he’d come from Seoul and he had his own motorcycle and also a part time job. Some of the other boys wanted to sit with him at lunch, and they invited him to play basketball after school sometimes, and even to go hiking in the mountains on the weekends.</p><p>Bin did his best to be polite and friendly, but he didn’t really know <em> how </em> to be a teenage boy, one who worried about what girls thought of him and whether he looked cool and what was going on with Seoul United or the Bluewings for soccer or the latest K-pop girl groups. He studied, he worked, and he checked for emails from Minhyuk.</p><p>Now that Dad wasn’t reading over his shoulder, he could email Minhyuk directly. </p><p>At first Bin was alarmed that emails from Minhyuk arrived in the middle of the night. Was he not sleeping? Was he working too hard? After he looked up the time difference between Korea and America, he realized Minhyuk was probably emailing on his lunch break. Before, they hadn’t been the type to send each other lots of text messages, so Bin wasn’t surprised that Minhyuk’s emails were short, but they were honest.</p><p>Living in America was hard. Minhyuk didn’t speak English well and had struggled in the subject at school. He used the Papago translator on his phone to get by, but everyone talked so fast and loud, and it was overwhelming. The ballet school was amazing and he was learning a lot, and he was excited about that.</p><p>Minhyuk emailed Bin all the photos from their one real date. He’d send the occasional selca. He sent a few videos of himself dancing. Because Bin was in the library, he had to watch them without music, but they were beautiful anyway. Bin was pretty sure he’d be able to spot Minhyuk dancing in a crowd, or just by his silhouette, or even if he was wearing a uniform and a mask.</p><p>Those short emails kept Bin going. Knowing that Minhyuk was in America and living his dream meant Bin could finally dream for himself.</p><p>And what he wanted for himself was a future with Minhyuk in it.</p><p>So Bin studied hard, and he worked hard, and he made plans. He spoke to the school counselor about what he needed to do to get into a university, a good one in Seoul but one that wouldn’t overwhelm him given his previous academic performance. He took a bunch of tests to see what kind of career he should pursue, what subjects he had to work harder in to prepare for the college entrance exam.</p><p>Minhyuk hadn’t been kidding. Bin was really good at math and figuring out how to take things apart and put them back together better. He was going to become an engineer.</p><p>Bin’s relationship with Sua was better than ever. She, too, sent him pictures and videos in her emails. Sometimes he sent pictures back, on the simple flip phone he’d been able to afford, but texting on it was annoying, and he couldn’t use it to read webtoons, and he only had enough money to buy minutes so he could check in with Dad on the regular about when he was done with school and on his way to work or where he was going on the weekend and when he was coming home, so he didn’t call her often. Now that Dad was making better money - Bin was making less on account of working less in exchange for studying more - Sua could enjoy her dance lessons without feeling burdened, plus there was extra for her to get more dance supplies and sometimes go to special workshops. She was actively auditioning for entertainment companies, and Bin promised that if she debuted as an idol he’d do his best to promote her and her team among his classmates.</p><p>Now that Dad knew Bin liked boys, he was wary whenever Bin said he was going to hang out with boys from school, but Bin always assured him that he was going in a group, and the other boys didn’t know he was gay anyway, and it wasn’t like Dad tried to date every woman he met, right? Bin didn’t like any of his classmates that way.</p><p>This new, slower life with Dad and the boys Bin might one day learn to call friends was all right. But Bin felt like he was waiting for - something. </p><p>He had a real bed to sleep in now, and a room of his own, so he didn’t have to listen to Dad’s snoring till he fell asleep, but it was harder to fall asleep now. Wherever he went, he kept an eye out, looked over his shoulder to make sure the shadows from Seoul hadn’t followed him to this quiet little village. During classes, he looked down at his uniform and his senior-class nameplate and wondered how he’d gotten there. People smiled at him and knew his name, but he looked them up and down, assessed how they might fare in a fight, how likely they were to belong to a gang.</p><p>A teacher asked him to come to the staff offices to talk, and he wondered what he’d done wrong, was surprised when the teacher had recommendations for study courses to help him prepare for the college entrance exam.</p><p>Everything was going so well. Bin was living the life he’d never dared to dream of having.</p><p>And then Minhyuk stopped replying to his emails. </p><p>He didn’t always reply right away; Bin was used to waiting two or three days for a reply. But after four days passed with no word, not even a <em> Sorry I’m so busy and tired from rehearsals for a recital. Love you, </em>Bin was worried. He reached out to Sua, because she’d become closer to Minhyuk on account of being their messenger for a while. She said Minhyuk hadn’t replied to her last email either, but then he didn’t write her as often as he did Bin. </p><p>After a week, Bin was very worried. Sua said she asked around some of the other students and even the staff at the hagwon, but she hadn’t heard anything. </p><p>Bin told her that Sanha - who apparently knew Sua on account of his coming to watch Minhyuk’s performances at recitals and had a persistent crush on her - was the son of some of Minhyuk’s parents’ coworkers. Could she reach out to him and see if he knew what was going on? Even if Sua was annoyed by Sanha’s crush on her, it was a favor for her oppa. </p><p>Please. </p><p>It was two weeks after Bin had last heard from Minhyuk that Sua finally had news. Sanha reported that Minhyuk’s father had been injured in an accident and was in the hospital. Things were looking very bad. The family business was in jeopardy without him. Minhyuk would probably have to come home. </p><p>Bin stared at Sua’s email and felt familiar dread settle into his bones. </p><p>This was it. This was what Bin had been waiting for. The other shoe to drop. Because Moon Bin wasn’t allowed to dream. And if he dared reach beyond his limits, there was a price. Bin was living his dream, but he wasn’t supposed to, so the universe found a way to strike the balance. </p><p>Three days later, Sua reported that Minhyuk’s father had passed away. Minhyuk’s mother had closed the catering business and was moving the entire family. Sanha didn’t know where. </p><p>“He didn’t even have a hint as to where?” Bin asked. He was on his break at the construction site, sitting a bit a ways away from the older men and Dad.</p><p>“Not a clue,” Sua said.</p><p>Bin felt a strange cold feeling start to spread through his limbs. “Tell Sanha to reach out to Jinwoo. He’s Minhyuk’s cousin. Maybe he knows something.”</p><p>“All right,” Sua said. “I’m sure everything will be fine, oppa.”</p><p>“Tell Sanha to tell Jinwoo to tell Minhyuk if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.”</p><p>“I will. Take care. Make sure you eat.”</p><p>“You too,” Bin said. He hung up and finished his supper and threw the food containers away. He drifted through the rest of his shift, that coldness spreading further and further into his limbs until everything felt sluggish and distant and everything hurt just a bit, on the edges, like the creep of frostbite along his skin.</p><p>The next day, Sua had grim news. “Sanha says Jinwoo has vanished as well, isn’t answering calls.”</p><p>Bin, sitting on the steps outside the library, felt the cold start to burn. “Okay. Tell Sanha thank you. Take care. I have to go study.”</p><p>“Oppa -”</p><p>Bin hung up, turned off his phone, and headed into the library. He checked his email.</p><p>There was no word from Minhyuk. Bin sent a message offering his condolences and a small reminder: <em> I’m still here for you. I love you. </em></p><p>He refreshed his inbox for ten minutes straight, but there was no response.</p><p>Bin closed the browser tab with his email inbox and set to studying in earnest.</p><p>For the next week, he sent a brief email every day, and he sat refreshing his inbox for ten minutes every day, but there was no response.</p><p>Finally, Bin wrote, <em> Take all the time you need. I’m still here for you. I love you. </em></p><p>And he stopped emailing Minhyuk.</p><p>That night, he lay in his comfy new bed and stared at the clean white ceiling, and he sent a promise out to the universe.</p><p>
  <em> I know I’m not allowed to dream. I’m sorry I dared to dream. I will give up my dream and my future with Minhyuk so long as he can be happy. Please let him be happy. </em>
</p><p>And then he closed his eyes and started counting sheep.</p><p>And with every sheep, he thought, <em> Please. </em></p><p>He reached a thousand before he fell asleep.</p><hr/><p>Bin still checked his email, of course, but then he checked his email every day because he used it for school purposes and to communicate with Sua. But he stopped waiting for a reply from Minhyuk. He put his head down, and he worked hard, and this felt familiar, like his life back in the city, working hard and praying that someone else was safe, was happy, was living a good life.</p><p>And Bin was living a good life now, better than he’d lived since before Mom and Dad split. He had his own bedroom. He had a steady part-time job. He had people he could call friends, who wanted to hang out with him on the weekends when he wasn’t working. He had teachers who cared about him and didn’t dismiss him as a bother and a burden, another problem student. He didn’t have people lingering in the shadows and around corners wherever he went, looking to throw down with him. He could ride his bike wherever he wanted, even to Seoul (but only to see Sua, and never to see her dance).</p><p>He passed the college entrance exam.</p><p>He got accepted into a surprisingly good school in Seoul. He’d have to work hard to cover tuition and living expenses, probably have to alternate working full time with working part time and taking classes full time, but he could do it. Become an engineer.</p><p>“I’m not sure I should go to college,” he admitted to Dad one night. “I could stick around here and become a mechanic, start earning money right away. You know I’m good at fixing things.”</p><p>Dad stared at him. Then he set down his chopsticks and leaned across the small table they ate at on the rare occasions when they had supper at home and not at the construction site. “Binnie, you got into college. Not everyone does that. Don’t throw this opportunity away. You worked so hard for it.”</p><p>Bin didn’t know how to tell his father that he was afraid if he took this opportunity that someone else, someone he cared about, would lose something wonderful of theirs in exchange. “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Dad sighed. “Binnie. I know I haven’t been a great father. But I have been trying harder. I’m working hard not just for Sua, but for you too. I want you to be happy and do something with your life besides...besides just <em> being.” </em> </p><p>Bin said, “I’ll think about it.”</p><p>Dad caught his gaze and held it. “Think hard, Moon Bin.”</p><p>Bin nodded, surprised by his father’s intensity. “I will.”</p><hr/><p>He put his head down, and he kept on working.</p><p>And he thought.</p><p>And on graduation day, he posed with Dad and Mom and Sua for pictures, clutching his congratulatory bouquet and still not quite believing he’d made it this far.</p><p>“Bin,” one of his classmates called out, “where are you going after graduation?”</p><p>“Seoul,” he said. “For university.”</p><p>Sua hugged him, and Mom hugged him, and Dad was smiling, and Bin thought that maybe the universe had found some kind of balance for him - and for Minhyuk.</p><p><em> Please be happy without me, </em>Bin thought, and then he said, “Yes, let’s go get food to celebrate. I’d like beef,” and he set off with his family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>Dongmin raised his glass. “To us.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>A toast with water seemed a bit silly, but Bin raised his glass as well, clinked it against Dongmin’s. “To us.”</i>
</p><p> <i>They both drank. </i></p><p> <i>Dongmin glanced out the window and saw several high school girls still in uniforms gawking at him from the sidewalk. “Should I wave, or should we do a love shot and really give them something to talk about?”</i></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you left this course till your last year of college,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the other person who also left this till his last year of college,” Bin pointed out. They stood behind the rest of their classmates, who were lining up to accept tickets from their professor to free fine arts performances for their general studies art class. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin, who was marginally taller than Bin, craned his neck. Bin could tell by the twist of his mouth that he was genuinely considering using his good looks to get them ahead in the line so they didn’t get stuck with tickets to something lame.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a community production of Swan Lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin stared at the ticket in dismay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least we can sit together,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin sighed. “I hate ballet. Don’t you hate ballet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really, no. My sister trained in ballet, so I saw her dance at recitals.” But Bin hadn’t been to one of her recitals in years, and he hadn’t gone out of his way to watch a ballet performance in years either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sister who’s the lead rapper and main dancer in BrightStar?” Dongmin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “She trained in hip hop too, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, you learn something new every day,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure if you look her up on K-pop Profiles it says she had ballet training,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin elbowed him lightly. “Whatever. I’m not into girl groups.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t really into anyone, which had perhaps been their saving grace as friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You play classical music and like other old music,” Bin said. “Why don’t you like ballet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s long and repetitive and boring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t they stories, though? Isn’t Swan Lake about a princess who turns into a swan or something?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The music for Swan Lake is beautiful,” Dongmin said. “The story is just - irritating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin, for various reasons, wasn’t a fan of love stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “Fair enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also, it’s been my experience that community productions are...less than stellar.” Dongmin squinted at the tickets. “Although this is apparently a production of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake, whatever that means. Maybe it’s a shortened version. That might be nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we have to see something, and tickets to this are free.” Bin nudged Dongmin. “We can go out to dinner somewhere nice beforehand. You can tell your mom you went on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin considered. All through high school he’d promised his father he wouldn’t date. Now that he was in his final year of college, his parents were very anxious about the fact that he still didn’t date. “I want beef.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, you’re such a fancy date. But fine. Beef it is. See you Saturday?” Bin smiled. Dad had nearly had a heart attack the first time he’d visited Bin on campus and laid eyes on Dongmin, who was quite aware of how handsome he was but didn’t seem to understand what all the fuss was about, and Dad had come to terms, over the years, with the fact that Bin liked boys, if only because Bin never dated any boys and Dongmin didn’t date anyone and the only people they hung out with were each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin nodded and pocketed the tickets. He was more organized than Bin, and it was only appropriate that he keep them. “See you Saturday.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>While Dongmin’s parents weren’t drama chaebol rich, they were certainly richer than anyone Bin had ever known growing up, so he tended to have expensive tastes. Luckily for Bin, Sua had passed an audition for an entertainment company right after high school and made it to debut in two years, and for the past two years he’d been free and clear of working to support her, and now he had a bit of extra money so he could live a bit more comfortably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that involved occasionally splurging for dinner at an upscale restaurant with Dongmin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heads turned when Dongmin stepped into the warmly-lit foyer. He strode up to the hostess stand and requested a table for two. Men and women alike whispered, eyed him curiously. Was he a model or an actor or an idol? Who was his lucky date?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin heaved himself up from one of the plush armchairs that served as a waiting space and ambled toward Dongmin. They’d both agreed to dress nicely, on account of that being theater etiquette.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right on time, as always.” Bin smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel more gazes on him, knew he was being sized up and found wanting as one of Dongmin’s companions, though Dongmin was barely taller than him, and Bin had had strangers tell him he was handsome more than once (usually before Dongmin showed up, at any rate).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hostess glanced at Bin. “Is this the rest of your party?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, he’s my only dining companion this evening,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hostess smiled at him and barely looked at Bin and led them across the dining floor to, predictably, a window table for two. Great. They’d be scenery for passers-by to gawk at. No matter. The hostess poured them both glasses of water, handed them straws and menus, and bustled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I need to order a glass of wine to get through tonight?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, no.” Dongmin scanned the menu, nodded decisively, closed it and set it aside. “I did some research, out of curiosity -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Research? On ballet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was curious,” Dongmin said pointedly, so Bin gestured for him to continue. “On the ticket, it says this is a production of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. I thought he might be a famous ballet choreographer, like Baryshnikov or Balanchine -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As in Balanchine boys?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin rolled his eyes. “Can you focus for once?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, I’m not being thirsty, it’s - a special type of ballet dancer. Requires a certain physical build as well as skill,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Maybe. I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you know who Baryshnikov and Balanchine are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Anyway,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dongmin said, “Matthew Bourne isn’t strictly a ballet choreographer. He runs a dance company in London, and he does modern adaptations of classical ballets - Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, Cinderella, and Swan Lake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so - modern music and dancing?” Bin asked. “More like a musical?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he uses the original classical scores by Tchaikovsky and the like,” Dongmin said. “No dialogue, all dance, like a ballet. But with a twist. His version of The Nutcracker is set in an orphanage, for example. And his version of Swan Lake has all male swans.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, so a princess falls in love with a swan prince then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The prince is still male,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin blinked. “Then...the prince is gay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I read the synopsis of the play, and it’s ambiguous. Maybe the Swan is the prince’s dream lover, or maybe just his id or alter ego, because of his terrible relationship with his mother. It’s actually quite fascinating. So - I have high hopes for this. Besides the Swan, no one needs to have especially technical ballet skills, so perhaps a community production could be quite good.” Dongmin smiled and flagged down their server, a college-age girl who blushed and stammered through taking their order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’d hurried away, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears, Dongmin continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The original production won many awards, both in England and overseas. The dancer who originated the role of the Swan was a trained ballet dancer from the Royal Ballet. I have high hopes for tonight’s performance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. “This is why I’m your only friend. I get why you don’t date people, but - it’s a cheap community production for our freshman-level fine arts class. And you did that much research. If you spent half as much time on meeting other people as you did on research -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asexual and you’re aromantic and together we are the perfect bachelor pair. Like Watson and Holmes. Except I’m going to be a lawyer and you’re going to be an engineer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think, as the scientist between us, I’m Holmes,” Bin said. He added, “I’m not aromantic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t know how to be in love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not the same thing as never falling in love,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin raised his eyebrows. “Tell me one person you’ve been in love with. Celebrities don’t count.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, no Park Seojoon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Dongmin caught Bin’s gaze, held it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to call yourself aromantic. That’s your choice. But I think you’re just in denial.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shrugged. “Whatever, Watson. And just because I haven’t fallen in love doesn’t mean I can’t. I knew I was gay long before I ever kissed a boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin raised his eyebrows again. “You’ve actually kissed a boy? A real live boy? Not a Park Seojoon life-sized cardboard cutout?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yah!” Bin flicked his straw wrapper at Dongmin, who dodged nimbly. “You don’t know every single thing about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know more than anyone else,” Dongmin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was probably true, if only because Dongmin knew about Bin’s long history of family drama. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enough about me,” Bin said. “How goes the job search?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have several interviews lined up for right after graduation,” Dongmin said. “I’m most interested in the prosecutor’s office, but I have also applied to graduate school so I can pursue a judgeship as a backup plan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Judgeship as a backup plan,” Bin echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin shrugged and sipped some water. “What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did apply to some graduate programs overseas, but I also scored an interview with a certain big motor company that shall not be named, working in their engineering and design department, so I’m burning incense for that,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You got the interview?” Dongmin’s eyes lit up. He’d helped Bin practice for that preliminary interview a dozen times.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded, grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your parents must be so proud - daughter a popular idol, son a successful student and future successful engineer.” Dongmin pretended to wipe away a tear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin ducked his head. “I hope they’re proud. I hope I do well.” He knew that this strange turn his life had taken, this new trajectory had come at a price.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin raised his glass. “To us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A toast with water seemed a bit silly, but Bin raised his glass as well, clinked it against Dongmin’s. “To us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both drank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin glanced out the window and saw several high school girls still in uniforms gawking at him from the sidewalk. “Should I wave, or should we do a love shot and really give them something to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes Dongmin’s savage use of his own good looks made Bin’s head spin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was saved from having to answer by the arrival of their appetizers. “Eat up! We don’t want to be late to the show.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>The community theater was tucked down a side street just beyond the main theater district downtown. Bin had been in this area plenty of times as a teen, and he still knew his way around pretty well, so he had the cab drop them off at the main intersection, and they went the rest of the way on foot. The building was small but had a brightly-lit marquee out front. The foyer was decorated like an old-fashioned movie palace, a bit too gaudy for Bin’s taste, but clean and airy. They presented their tickets, were given playbills that were a single sheet, photocopied and folded. The community theater was running on a fairly low budget, although the hand-drawn swan on the front looked very nice. Dongmin pocketed the playbill - they’d get it signed by members of the cast after, take some pictures with them as proof that they’d actually attended - and led the way to their seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The seats were the hard plastic kind Bin remembered from his high school auditorium. He remembered being slouched in them during boring assemblies, wishing he was anywhere else, maybe out on his bike making money. Dongmin was by far the best-dressed in the building, and once again heads turned and the volume of conversations took a noticeable dip as he passed, searching for their seats. Judging by the composition of the crowd - a lot of older couples, plus groups of college kids and high school kids - the audience was mostly supportive family and friends. Bin knew that familial support meant a lot to young performers, though, so he was glad that they were here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin found their seats, and they shrugged off their jackets before they sat down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A young woman in an awkward-fitting dress suit asked the audience to silence their cell phones, which Bin and Dongmin did. She reminded them that no flash photography was allowed as it could distract the dancers, and she told them to enjoy the show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone applauded, and the lights went down, and the curtain rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no orchestra, of course, but a recording of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake was easy to come by.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kind of recognized the music, because Swan Lake was a popular classical piece, but he was surprised that the opening scene was of a boy in a big fancy bed - the prince as a child, then? - having what seemed to be a nightmare about a swan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which didn’t seem romantic at all, frankly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A man as a swan made more sense, now - long arms, powerful chest, aggressive motions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something about the swan seemed familiar, but that was probably Bin’s imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would have puzzled over that sense of recognition more, but he was distracted by a woman entering the scene. The boy’s mother. The queen. When she spurned the boy’s request for affection, Bin flinched. Even though he and his mother had a much better relationship now, things between them were still occasionally awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dongmin was right - this production was much less like a traditional ballet and more like a play, though without any dialogue, and Bin settled in to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though there was no dialogue, he knew exactly what was going on, between the costumes and the bright, surprisingly well-made but simple scenery, and the emotion the dancers put into their facial expressions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway through the first scene, the prince grew up. The dancer playing the adult version of the prince looked familiar as well - very tall, long-limbed, model-slender, but with a boyish roundness to his features. Perhaps he would have made a good Balanchine boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin could see elements of classical ballet in the choreography, but everything felt more modern and contemporary. The costumes were modern, which Bin liked, and they really added character to all the dancers. The girl who wanted to be a princess wore a silly poofy pink dress unbefitting a princess, demonstrating her unfitness in high society and the queen’s eyes. The queen’s dress was a bit more formal and old-fashioned and added to the air of distance between her and her son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was so caught up in the story of the prince who was very sad about his bad relationship with his mother that he forgot about the Swan altogether until the scene outside the club where the drunken prince, after learning that his girlfriend was a plant from the evil butler, hallucinated some swans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The scene changed to a city park with a lake, and in the background, a single swan drifted across the lake. All Bin could see was a bare back and the weird feathery pants the swan dancers wore with the heart-shaped waistline, but something about that dancer was definitely familiar. Was that the Swan?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Bin a moment to figure out what was happening at the park, with the prince writing a note and sticking it to a lamp post, but then he realized. The prince was going to commit suicide by drowning himself in the lake. Surely this wasn’t appropriate for children to watch?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe they wouldn’t entirely understand what was going on, if it hadn’t been immediately apparent to Bin what the prince’s intentions were. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The prince went to fling himself into the lake, and then a swan appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not just any swan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Swan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was barefoot, and those feathery pants were only knee-length, and Bin could see that he’d been painted white from head to toe but for a black stripe down his forehead and nose so he really looked like a swan. He was lean and muscular. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he moved, and Bin felt his heart stop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Swan was Minhyuk. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAYsCIjwgGA">Adam Cooper</a> was the original Swan in Matthew Bourne's Swan Lake. He played the adult version of Billy in the movie version of Billy Elliot, the implication being that when Billy grew up he got to play The Swan. Since teeny tiny Minhyuk went out for Billy Elliot as a kid, this seemed fitting.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“Minhyuk-ah!” Chaeyoung called out. “Look who came to our show! Remember him?”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Heads turned, and the crowd around Minhyuk parted.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bin turned slowly.</i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Bin felt his pulse roar back to life as he watched The Swan glide across the stage, graceful and elegant but also powerful and aggressive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After four and a half years of nothing, not even a hint from Heejoo or anyone Sua knew in the dance community, how was Minhyuk here, now, like this?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like that, Bin recognized the dancer playing the prince. Sanha. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A thousand emotions Bin had long kept buried surged to the surface, and when he swiped a hand over his face, his hand came away wet. What the hell?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin couldn’t take his eyes off of Minhyuk, taking in the familiar clean lines of his body, the extensions of his dance poses, but also noting the changes, how he was taller now, his shoulders a little broader, his features sharper and less boyish. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still breathtakingly beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was still dancing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin leaned forward, riveted. For four years he had avoided watching ballet, especially any male ballet dancers, because none of them were Park Minhyuk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now Minhyuk was here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had forgotten how powerful a male dancer could be even when he was performing something like ballet, but Minhyuk was more powerful than ever, filling the stage with his wild emotion. Sanha was a surprisingly graceful dancer, for how tall he was compared to Minhyuk. Their duets were stunning, though Bin was alarmed when Minhyuk lifted Sanha for one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory rose, unbidden. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Could you lift me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If you knew how to be lifted, probably.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Park Minhyuk, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bin thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve missed you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I still love you. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>When the other swans flooded the stage, Bin’s chest tightened, because he lost sight of Minhyuk, but then he spotted Minhyuk in the crowd, dancing with the swans, leading them, and he was drawn into the performance once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin felt like he’d been transported back in time, to his eighteen-year-old self, to the angry and lonely boy who’d been irresistibly attracted to another lonely boy, one who was beautiful and shone brightly, the brightest star among all the other stars.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a famous ballet number,” Dongmin murmured, when four swans took the stage alone. “Dance of the little swans. Usually four women </span>
  <em>
    <span>en pointe.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was jolted out of his emotional spiral. “How much research did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only this time the dance was performed by four young men, all playful and jumping on each other and around each other. Bin clapped and smiled, charmed, as the men hurried off the stage, and he realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the little swans was Jinwoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the scene with the swans ended and the prince threw away his suicide note and left the park and the lake, everyone applauded, and the curtain fell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intermission,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and followed Dongmin out to the foyer where people were lining up to use the restrooms and get drinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you all right?” Dongmin asked, stepping into the line at the water fountain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small table set up, selling water bottles and other small concessions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Bin said. “Hey, can I take a look at the program?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure. Just don’t lose it. It’s half our grade.” Dongmin fished it out of his pocket and handed it over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin unfolded it and was reminded of the folded pink piece of paper he kept in his wallet, that he never looked at. The email address on it never yielded a response, and the number on it was out of service. The apartment listed on it had long been leased to strangers. Bin opened the program, skimmed past the director and choreographer and information about the community dance company, past the list of acts and scenes, to the cast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Swan/The Stranger - Park Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Prince - Yoon Sanha.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Queen - Im Chaeyoung. Not Sua’s friend Chaeyoung?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down among the ensemble was Park Jinwoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin traced over Minhyuk’s name, heart pounding. It was really him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He flipped to the back, because sometimes programs included performer bios, but instead there was just information about the crew, who’d done the costumes and the set design and building, and thank-yous to everyone who supported the company in general and this production in particular.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin?” Dongmin said. “Are you all right? Your hands are shaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin blinked, looked down at his hands, flexed them experimentally. They were shaking. “What? Oh. Um. Remember at dinner, you asked me to tell you one person I’d fallen in love with?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin nodded. “Yes. Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin held out the program, pointed. “Him. Park Minhyuk. The dancer playing the Swan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? You’re in love with him? You don’t think that’s a bit sudden?” Dongmin looked dubious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It’s -” Bin grabbed Dongmin’s arm and tugged him over to a deserted corner of the foyer. “Remember how I said Sua took ballet lessons when she was younger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minhyuk - he went to the same dance hagwon as her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin’s eyes went wide. “Really? And - what, you had a crush on him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I was in love with him. He was my boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin patted Dongmin’s arm nervously. “Not so loud. I mean, when he was younger he was out, but that was at the dance hagwon and the dojang where he trained because his instructor was also gay. Or at least had a boyfriend, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” Dongmin looked almost as shell-shocked as Bin felt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “We lost touch after he went to America to train at a fancy ballet school. And then there was a whole bunch of other drama after that. But I -” He swallowed hard. “I’m still in love with him. I mean. I think I am. The thought of even trying to date anyone else all these years has been - just no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Daebak,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dongmin said. “I seriously thought you were aromantic because you just straight up refuse to contemplate romantic relationships with anyone. But you’ve really been in love with him all this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I just thought I’d never see him again, so -” Bin really was shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin was alarmed. He grabbed Bin’s shoulders. “Are you okay? Do you need some fresh air?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I mean, I feel okay, but I guess I’m kind of...not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin dragged Bin over to the concession table, bought a bottle of water and an overpriced candy bar. He unwrapped the candy bar and practically shoved it into Bin’s mouth, and Bin ate it quickly before he accepted the bottle of water and drained it in several swallows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” Dongmin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “Yeah. I think so. Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chime sounded from somewhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Intermission’s almost over,” Dongmin said. “Do you want to go back in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin blinked at him. “We have to go back in there. Our grade -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin shook him. “Do you want to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you kidding? I haven’t seen him in four and a half years. I have to go back in there. I want to watch him dance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin studied him for a long moment. “All right. Let’s go.” He dragged Bin back into the theater, plopped him down in his seat, and proceeded to mollycoddle him, tucking Bin’s jacket around his shoulders and his own jacket across Bin’s knees to keep his legs warm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was touched but also confused, but then the auditorium was filling back up. There were only about half as many people as before, and Bin realized. Families with little children had probably gone home. The kids had seen the swans, seen their loved ones perform, and now it was bedtime.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights went down, and the curtain went up. Music swelled, and -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Flashing lights. Cameras. Reporters. Fans. A red carpet. A modern royal ball.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sanha looked regal but also nervous, unhappy, especially since his ‘girlfriend’ was there. Now that Bin looked closely at the queen, he could see that she was Sua’s former dance companion Chaeyoung. Were other dancers from that hagwon in the rest of the cast? Jinwoo and Sanha had gone to a different hagwon, right? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The evil butler was present at the ball, as well as a bunch of ladies who Bin assumed were princesses. Where was the Swan?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk appeared onstage wearing black leather pants and a long dark coat, Bin’s heart stopped for a moment, because he was devastatingly sexy. It was like that first time Bin saw him hip-hop dancing all over again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another memory rose, unbidden, of Bin and Minhyuk hanging out in the storeroom at the hagwon where Minhyuk slept.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“There’s at least one male ballet variation I can think of that requires dancing in leather pants.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk had insisted ballet wasn’t sexy, but this performance, Minhyuk in sweeping black and seducing all the other princesses, was definitely sexy. Bin shrugged off his jacket, feeling heat creep up his spine. No wonder all the families with little kids had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>However sexy Minhyuk was, Sanha’s pain and confusion at seeing a man who looked just like the Swan who’d saved him from killing himself was palpable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the fancy ball went to hell, ended in the girlfriend dead, and Bin was swept back up into the drama of the prince and the mother who refused - was unable - to love him. Bin’s heart lifted when the Swan appeared to try to comfort the prince, but then it all went so, so wrong, and the Swan died and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>prince</span>
  </em>
  <span> died and at the end of it all the queen was left holding her son and weeping over his corpse while in the afterlife the prince was in the arms of his beloved Swan, and Bin was crying and he didn’t even care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the curtain fell, Bin was on his feet applauding before anyone else, but the rest of the audience surged with him. When the curtain rose and the cast came out to take their bows - first the ensemble of swans, then the four little swans (including a grinning Jinwoo still in white swan paint), then the princess and the evil butler, then Chaeyoung the queen, then Sanha the prince, and the little prince, and finally, finally Minhyuk the Swan - Bin thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he clapped and cheered and shouted, and the curtain rose and fell over the cast four times before the woman in the awkwardly-fitting suit thanked the audience for their support and invited them to offer their congratulations to the cast, who would be glad to meet them and pose for pictures in the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While everyone else cleared out of the theater, Bin sat back down, forced himself to take deep breaths, get his composure back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you all right?” Dongmin asked. He looked a little red around the eyes himself, but he’d always had impeccable composure (if, occasionally, a short temper).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I am. That was just - you had high hopes for this show, and you were right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wonder what a professional production is like,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin laughed shakily. “I don’t think I would survive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your boy Minhyuk, though,” Dongmin said. “He could be in a professional production.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sobered. “Yeah. He should have been. But the universe is -” Unfair. Had struck a cruel balance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin said, gently, “We can ask someone else to sign our program. Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um. The evil butler person?” Bin suggested. He rose, took a few more deep breaths, and handed back Dongmin’s jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together they headed for the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Plenty of people were asking for pictures with the young men dressed as swans, mostly girls, because the men were shirtless and muscular and gleaming. Some posed and smiled happily, others struck swan poses, and the foyer was filled with a happy din.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin steered them toward the evil butler who, when he wasn’t smirking, looked like a very cheerful person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” Dongmin said, bowing. “We really enjoyed your performance. Could you sign this for us?” He held out the program.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man smiled. “Absolutely.” He scrawled his name - Lee Jooheon - and then passed it on to the queen beside him automatically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung started to sign, and she went still when she looked up and saw Dongmin. “Oh!” She cleared her throat. “Did you enjoy the performance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very much,” Dongmin said, smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did very well,” Bin added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Chaeyoung said, “Bin-oppa?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “Ah, yes. I’m surprised you remembered me. We only met a few times.” He bowed, nervous, darted a glance around. Where was Minhyuk? In that crowd at the end of the line, surrounded by much-deserved admirers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Sua’s a famous idol now,” Chaeyoung said. “We all remember her - and her very handsome older brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very kind of you. You deserve to be famous yourself,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung giggled. “You flatter me. Say hello to Sua for me when you next speak to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will,” Bin said. Sua’s team had finally earned the right to have cellphones again after getting their first win on a music show, and she texted him all the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s your friend?” Chaeyoung asked, looking Dongmin up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Chaeyoung, this is Lee Dongmin, a classmate of mine. Dongmin, this is Chaeyoung. She trained at the same dance hagwon as my younger sister Sua.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin bowed. “Nice to meet you.” He cast Bin a worried look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded ever-so-slightly, trying to convey with the smallest motion possible that talking to Chaeyoung for too long was a bad idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung handed back the signed program. “You must have recognized Minhyuk then, yes? You were friends, right? Used to sweep the studio together? Such a tragedy, what happened to his father, but at least Minhyuk is finally dancing again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin swallowed hard. “Yes.” His voice came out a little strangled, but Chaeyoung didn’t seem to notice. “Um, we have to go now -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Minhyuk-ah!” Chaeyoung called out. “Look who came to our show! Remember him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heads turned, and the crowd around Minhyuk parted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin turned slowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk was looking right at him, his dark eyes opaque, his expression blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then his lips parted, and his eyes went wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin-hyung?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/fKc71-SEoiw">the Swan and the Prince's pas de deux in the park</a>
</p><p>
  <a href="https://youtu.be/l8BqSKj1BTM">The four little swans</a>
</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JKD1RJmxjrE">The Stranger and the Prince's pas de deux at the ball</a> - the leather pants ;)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>
  <i>“You forgive me?”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Bin said, “I’m still here for you. I love you.”</i></p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So much gratitude to the AMAZING Vonseal for running the fic fest that allowed this story to be brought to life. </p><p>Also, even more gratitude to everyone who read along and supported this story! You're awesome.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Beside Minhyuk, Sanha’s eyes went wide. “Bin-hyung?” he echoed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“That</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bin-hyung?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinwoo materialized out of the crowd and stood beside Minhyuk, wordless support.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chaeyoung sensed, belatedly, the tension between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll leave you to your reunion,” she said, and Dongmin tugged Bin away from her, toward the doors, but Bin broke free and crossed the foyer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stood in front of Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Minhyukie. I’ve missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Bin knew what was what, Jinwoo and Sanha and Dongmin were bundling him and Minhyuk into a side room away from everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be just outside,” Jinwoo said, and he dragged Dongmin and Sanha with him, Dongmin protesting all the while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s really you,” Minhyuk said, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Total chance. I’m taking a fine arts class, and the professor had tickets, so Dongmin and I came.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk’s eyes turned suspiciously bright. “Dongmin is very handsome. You look good together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shook his head. “It’s not like that. It hasn’t been like that with anyone. Ever. Not since you. But, um.” He scratched the side of his neck. “You looked amazing out there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk looked away, ducked his head. “I’m sorry.” His voice was thick with emotion. “My father, he -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sua told me,” Bin said gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came back to Korea right away. But then my mother - she couldn’t - not even with Jinwoo’s family helping, and I had Minseokie to think about, and -” Minhyuk blinked rapidly. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just leave you like that. But everything was so messed up, and my family -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Family comes first,” Bin said quietly. “I understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “I know you do. And look where Sua is now. You must be so proud.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you. Taking classes. From professors. You’re in university?” Minhyuk managed a faint, wobbly smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost graduated. Engineering.” Bin offered a careful smile in return. “You told me that most people couldn’t just fix up a bike like I did, and you were right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad.” Minhyuk took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Bin said. “About your father. About America. About -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk shook his head. “The past is in the past. I’m dancing again, and I make pretty good money teaching taekwondo with Shin-sabumnim, so. My life is good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin wanted to ask if there had been anyone else, was currently someone else now, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “I’m glad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were wrong, by the way, all those years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Minhyuk blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said ballet wasn’t sexy, but tonight, you were incredibly sexy. And even more beautiful than I remember.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Moon Bin,” Minhyuk breathed, like a prayer. “I’ve missed you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made perfect sense for Bin to step closer and lean in, and when Minhyuk kissed him, the rest of the world fell away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them, sitting on a patio on a warm spring night, the scent of frangipani blossoms in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them, leaning against the barre in one of the practice studios.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them, in the hallway of an underground dance club.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them, in the storeroom at the hagwon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the park. At the National Theater. In the old dingy apartment Bin had once shared with Dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just the two of them, in a side room at the theater after Minhyuk’s breathtaking performance in an amazing production of Swan Lake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk pulled back, he looked as confused and longing as Bin felt. “You forgive me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “I’m still here for you. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that, Minhyuk started to cry, tiny, shuddering sobs, shoulders shaking, tears slipping down his face and ruining his stage makeup. Bin pulled him close and held him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Minhyuk was finally calmer, he stepped back and went to wipe his face, paused. “I’m sorry about your shirt. I have a spare you can - no, you’re too big for any of my clothes. Um -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it,” Bin said gently. “One shirt doesn’t mean anything now that I finally have you back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk blinked up at him through wet lashes. “You’d still want to be with me after all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I’m still here, and I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded, swallowed hard. “All right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Bin remembered. “You just danced really hard. You’re supposed to stay warm so you don’t get injured.” He shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Minhyuk’s shoulders. “Where’s the dressing room? You need to get into warm clothes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk laughed, the sound a little shaky but genuinely happy. “It’s fine. I’m fine. But I should get cleaned up. Come on. The dressing room is this way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin pulled open the door and came up short at the human wall that was Sanha, Dongmin, and Jinwoo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything all right?” Jinwoo asked, looking at Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously they kissed and made up,” Dongmin said flatly. He swatted half-heartedly at Bin. “Who am I going to fake-date now? My mom is this close to taking me to a professional match-maker, I swear. Although maybe your dad will stop looking at me like he hopes I burst into flames whenever he sees me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, were you crying?” Sanha asked. He glared at Bin. “What did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, I promise,” Minhyuk said. “But I really need to go clean up now, so -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinwoo and Sanha plucked Minhyuk away from Bin’s side and spirited him into the dressing room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin and Dongmin watched them go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Dongmin said. “Tonight has been - well. It’s always an </span>
  <em>
    <span>event </span>
  </em>
  <span>with you, isn’t it, Moon Bin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin looked at him. “With me? I can’t go anywhere in public with you without some stranger offering to marry you and have your babies. And then you start asking them if artificial insemination is all right, and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am not the person in this friendship who makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>events</span>
  </em>
  <span> happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dongmin smiled. “Hey. I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you, and you were a basket case when BrightStar got their first win.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am really happy right now,” Bin admitted. “I just - I can’t believe this is really happening.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt like he was walking on air. After four years, for Minhyuk to walk back into his life like this should have been impossible. But it had happened. It was a miracle, and it was amazing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bin couldn’t help but wonder what this happiness would cost the people around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk emerged from the dressing room in skinny jeans and a soft blue oversized sweater and sneakers, a familiar gym bag slung across his torso. Without his stage makeup, he looked even more like the boy Bin remembered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to come eat with the rest of the cast?” Sanha asked. He and Jinwoo were wearing street clothes as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk said, “Binnie and I have some catching up to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinwoo glanced at Bin, then Minhyuk, and nodded. “All right. See you later.” And he herded Sanha out of the foyer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about your friend?” Minhyuk looked at Dongmin. “Did you come together? Do you need to take him home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Minhyukie, this is Lee Dongmin. We’ve been friends since freshman year. Dongmin, this is Park Minhyuk, my -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One and only love for the past four years, yes. Nice to meet you. I already called for a cab, so.” Dongmin waggled his phone meaningfully. “See you in class, Bin. Email me your half of the report.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He headed for the doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin and Minhyuk were the last ones in the foyer, staring at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to go get some food?” Bin asked finally. “Dongmin and I had dinner before we came, but you’re probably hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, please,” Minhyuk said. “I can never eat before a performance. Where should we go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about some pork belly? I know a place around here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds delicious. Sanha, Jinwoo, and I would always get pork belly after shows.” Minhyuk smiled. “My bike is parked out back. If you give me directions, I can drive us.” He started for the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin started to follow him, faltered. “Your bike?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have money for a car but I need to be able to get around, so...a motorcycle. Do you still have yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do,” Bin said. He followed Minhyuk out the front of the theater and down a side alley to where an old but serviceable bike was parked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mine’s not as nice as yours, but I don’t know how to fix one up myself, so I had to settle for what I could afford. Wolfie and I are happy with each other, though.” Minhyuk patted his bike fondly, and then he opened the seat compartment. “Here, use my helmet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Bin said, accepting the helmet. He stared. It was the one they’d bought together. The stickers on it were pale and faded, but they were still visible, the moon and the rock. “You still have this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, I missed you too.” Minhyuk took the helmet from him and helped him put it on, fixed the strap with calm, competent hands. Then he hopped onto the bike. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin climbed on behind him. He couldn’t remember ever being the passenger on someone else’s bike, but it felt natural to slide close and wrap his arms around Minhyhuk’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk flipped up the visor on the helmet. “Where to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin told him. “It’s open late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk gunned the engine. “Good, because we have a lot to catch up on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin smiled. “We do.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin leaned back against his bike, watching the dance students as they lingered outside  the doors of their hagwon, laughing and chatting. Some wore tights and leggings, jackets and leg warmers to protect them on the journey home. Others wore sneakers and ripped jeans, snapbacks and tank tops. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin found Sua easily among the crowd, because even sweaty after dance practice, she was an idol and her presence was magnetic. Boys and girls alike clamored for her attention. Her agency had initially been reluctant to use dance students for an upcoming music video project, but Sua had pointed out that some groups had collaborated with amateur high school performers before, and this was also the hagwon where she’d laid her excellent dance foundations, and since this was her first solo endeavour she wanted to show fans another side of her, a more personal side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua spotted him and called out, “Oppa, is that you? Stop lurking like a creeper.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heads turned, because Sua was an idol and she’d called someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>oppa.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin took off his helmet and tucked it against his side, trotted across the street. “Hey, little sister. I wasn’t lurking, just waiting for your fans to disperse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Noona,” one of the boys said, eyes wide, “is this your boyfriend?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of the girls slapped him on the arm. “Idiot. Look at the family resemblance. It’s her older brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” another girl said. “He’s really handsome. Are you an actor or a model?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an engineer,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oppa,” someone said, and heads turned again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk leaned in the doorway, smirking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teacher,” one of the girls said. “Did you know Sua-unni has an older brother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He knows,” Bin said. “And he’s supposed to call me </span>
  <em>
    <span>hyung.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiot,” one of the boys said. “He’s Teacher’s boyfriend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kids should get home. Don’t stay too late,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the man who used to sleep in the store room after practicing late so he could wake up early and practice the next morning,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” a girl said. “Teacher was intense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Teacher’s still intense. But you really should go home. And you,” Bin said to Sua, “you’d better get back to the dorms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua nodded. “Right away, big brother. You staying to help Minhyuk-ah clean up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just like old times,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua narrowed her eyes. “Not too much like old times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk grinned. “I have leftover dumplings and kimbap and kimchi fried rice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua groaned. “Don’t talk to me about real food. But - good night! Let’s go, kids. I expect to see you all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for practice tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drifted toward the bus stop where a company van was waiting to take her back to her team’s dorm, and the students followed, chatting to her excitedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk held the door open wider, and Bin stepped into the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t really have to help me clean,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it’s just like old times,” Bin said, pulling Minhyuk close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled up at him. “How much like old times?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not too much,” Bin said, “because I’m going to help you clean up here, and then instead of making out in the practice room or the storeroom, I’m going to take you home, and we’re going to do much, much more than make out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk leaned up and kissed him, slow and warm and welcoming. “That sounds perfect. Now come on. I really do have dumplings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, because I’m hungry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin went to get the cleaning cart while Minhyuk picked out some music. As predicted, it was Justin Bieber.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Want to dance a little bit first?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Only with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wrapped their arms around each other and swayed to the music. Bin closed his eyes and held Minhyuk close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The universe had finally struck a balance for the two of them together, and Bin would never take it for granted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sang along softly, and Bin hummed with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If it’s ten thousand hours or the rest of my life</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m gonna love you</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Once again, Bin and Minhyuk are dancing to 10,000 Hours by Dan + Shay, Justin Bieber</p><div class="center">
  <p><a href="https://imgfly.me/i/XLvDL1"></a> </p>
</div>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So much gratitude to the unparalleled Brumeier for beta-ing this thing that got out of control. Prompt said, "Go crazy." I went crazy. For some reason "punk" Moonbin became bad biker boy Bin from To Be Continued (sort of?). Also apparently five years in child welfare means that "stereotypical bad boy" is actually "angry comes from broken home and a troubled place boy", so...oops?</p><p>Title from the Feel Kim song Someday, the Boy which Rocky did a cover of (<a href="https://soundcloud.com/rockycl0ud/cover-by-rocky">listen</a> to it if you haven't because he did an awesome job).</p></blockquote></div></div>
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